#what does the bible say about sinning against your own family members? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

violettaskies · 1 year

Text

To Share A Kiss The Devil Has Known

(ch. 1)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x you // Eddie Munson x f!reader // perv!Eddie Munson x innocent!reader

Genre: romance, mild smut, Catholic trauma, religious trauma, friends to lovers, slow burn

Notes: this will have a three installments // this chapter is just the intro honestly lol so sorry if it’s boring build up // Eddie is kinda pervy lol // he’s kinda dark but also not // i tried to write him to be as much of a consent king as possible

Warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY, NSFW // talks of religion, reader goes to confession and her priest is a little mean with his words (at the beginning), slight manipulation, pillow humping, humping, first times, dacryphilia, corruption kink, praise kink // masturbation //please let me know if there should be more added, thank you!

ao3 // chapter two // chapter three // masterlist // series masterlist

-:-:-:-:-

Every other Sunday was for confession. While other members of the family went on Wednesdays or Saturdays, you always chose Sundays since it would start the week off on a clean slate.

Not that there was much to confess about. Oftentimes, you would walk from your house to the church a few hours after mass ended, maybe feeling a bit guilty about your thoughts, rarely was it ever your actions. One day, you came in to tell the priest about how angry you got at your parents when they grounded you for accidentally falling asleep in church. You didn’t lash out at them, of course; but, you did curse them in your head — not honouring thy father and mother very well.

Then there was an instance three years ago at the homecoming dance. One girl had on the most beautiful baby blue dress you had ever seen, while you were stuck with a hand-me-down gown of the same colour. You prayed aloud that night in front of your bed, that you would one day have the opportunity to wear a dress as nice as hers. But the prayer backfired when your mother overheard, then told you to march to the church the following morning to confess how you broke the tenth commandment of coveting thy neighbour’s goods.

As a whole, you thought there were never any major moments in your life where you sinned gravely. That was until you went to your friend’s house for Bible study on Saturday night. She hosted it weekly, and invited all the kids from school. Needless to say, only a handful of people appeared. Not that it wasn’t fun, the six of you would always spend a few hours going over passages, and then eat a nice dinner afterwards. Truly, you looked forward to it since there weren’t other things you were invited to in town.

So when this past Saturday rolled around where the first epistle to the Corinthians was read, specifically the sixth chapter and eighteenth verse — your group started to analyze it as normal. But, little did you know that this was the day your heart would drop the hardest it ever has.

‘The sexually immoral person sins against their own body,’ the people in the room repeated the verse over and over, like a chant taunting you and your actions.

It was the first time you walked into the confessional on a Sunday afternoon with shaky legs and an intensely beating heart. You told the priest what you told your friend, trying to rid yourself of the sins you unknowingly committed. But he stopped you, his voice only getting louder as he gave you guidance on your next steps. ‘Stop doing that,’ he said, ‘God may not be so quick to forgive you if you give into the Devil’s temptations so often.’ Then after he assigned you a penance of five Hail Marys and going through the rosary twice, you were gone.

All you could think as you took your first steps outside, were words that should never cross your mind. Not now, not ever.

If sinning is so bad, then why does it feel so good?

-:-:-:-:-

As the day ended, and a new week of school began — your guilt never went away. Teasing you from the back of your subconscious as you walked home, ate dinner, and failed at doing some homework that was due a few days later.

It had been three days since the last time you unknowingly sinned, two days since you found out what it was, and one day since the priest’s voice scared you to the point of no return. Everything affected you gravely, that even once you walked into school Monday morning, the noises from the other students became a muffled and chaotic mess in your ears. So much so, that as you were shakily getting things out of your locker, you didn’t even notice movement from the one next to yours.

“You look stressed, sweetheart.” The voice startled you, only amplifying your inner-guilt, since you spent the past few moments focusing on shutting the voices up in your head, rather than greeting your favourite locker neighbour.

But what made you feel guiltiest of all, was that he is the one who inspired these sins of yours.

The throbbing ache between your legs felt good, and the way your pillow helped relieve that ache felt even better. If you were able to feel this level of delight every night, then why not think of someone who made you feel the same way? — the question plagued your mind nightly, during the moments you were oblivious to committing a sin.

Little did you know that it was truly sexual in meaning.

There was only one person who made you feel equally as amazing with their words and actions. Your locker neighbour to the right, Eddie Munson.

Several moments replayed in your head. Like the time he kept calling you ‘pretty girl’ because you decided to wear a skirt on the first day of Spring. Then, you remember how his calloused fingers felt when they were so close to your face after he brushed your hair from your neck; making sure to linger on your sensitive skin before mentioning how beautiful the silver crucifix looked on you. There were so many times after that too. From his deep voice whispering in your ear to ask if you needed a ride home while you both were in study hall; to his arms wrapping a sweater around your shoulders during lunch when the school’s heater broke. The Hawkins townspeople claimed him as a spawn of the Devil, but you named him as the only true friend you had. The only person to make the butterflies in your stomach tingle every time he spoke to you.

“I-I’m not, it’s just I can see now why Mondays aren’t people’s favourite,” you responded, still staring into the vastness of your locker. Thinking about how your start to the week wasn't so great as it usually is.

Eddie had opened the metal door completely, removing the barrier between the two of you. “But, Mondays are always your favourite because you get to see me after a painstakingly long forty-eight hours,” he pouted while trying to get you to giggle at his dramatics.

It worked.

“Well, I normally see you around the fourth period. This is the earliest you’ve been at school for a while.”

“Mondays are the worst because my homeroom teacher loves putting tests at the buttcrack of dawn,” Eddie groaned, while holding up the notes you loaned him at the beginning of the year since you already took the biology course before.

“Well, good luck, I’m gonna go—” no matter how much you loved talking to him, and how warm he made you feel, Eddie was part of your current predicament. So seeing him now made your heart ache in the worst way.

As you went to grab the locker door to close it, Eddie lightly grabbed your wrist. “I saw you leaving the church yesterday. You looked so,” he paused, moving his head downwards to meet you at eye-level, before continuing. “Sad, you looked so sad. I even called out your name a few times so I could give you a ride home, but you kept walking, so I assumed you didn’t hear me.”

So it was the Devil’s spawn shouting your name as you made your way home; not the Devil himself making you feel guilty for your actions. It was just your friend who wanted to look out for you.

Eddie continued: “or maybe you’re ignoring me,” he pouted with feign-sadness.

“Oh, uh-uhm it was just a really tiring day and I guess the voices in my head were too loud,” it was only partially a lie.

“If something’s bothering you—”

“Nothing’s bothering me, honestly,” this one was a lie, and it came out a bit too easily. But all you could focus on now was the feeling of Eddie’s thumb stroking small circles on the soft skin of your wrist.

He looked you up and down suspiciously before saying, “you know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I do.”

“So whatever is going through your mind, let me know. Who am I to judge anyways?” He winked before letting go of your wrist.

You nodded, seriously contemplating if you wanted to have a confessional with your little Devil. Just as you stared at him with eyes full of conflict, the bell rang. Instead of responding, you softly said your farewell. “Anyways, see you later during fourth period, if you decide to come again.”

It was the only class Eddie had a perfect attendance score in, but he would never let you know that you’re the reason why.

-:-:-:-:-

By the time English class rolled along, you didn’t realize just how much your body was moving itself robotically. Going through the movements you’ve been so used to doing for the years you’ve been in high school. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, thankfully. First period was a calculus lesson, history happened afterwards with a lecture on the French Revolution, then a substitute showed up for geography during third period so that was a boring class. All throughout those hours, you kept quiet; because the wrath of the Angel on your shoulder, condemning you for your sins, was becoming far too much. To even think about answering questions the teachers asked was mentally exhausting.

It all came to a peak once you sat on your chair for fourth period English — the only class you had with Eddie this semester, and of course, the only class everyone sat at long desks that held two people. As you looked out the window to the dark blue skies of Autumn, your conscience kept telling you to be careful. You were about to sit next to the boy who amplified your senses as you sinned. Goodness knows how he’ll react to the news if you told him.

What would he think if he found out you think about his hands helping guide your hips nightly, or his voice telling you ‘you’re so beautiful’ when you finally find the climax of your relief, or his lips kissing your —

“You’re still so tense,” the voice brought you out of your haze for the second time today. But this time, Eddie’s warm hand was on the top of your left thigh; the set of thighs you unknowingly went from bouncing one second to squeezing together the next.

“Just tired, maybe I’ll nap when I get home,” you sighed. Truly, it has been three days since the bane of your guilt was committed. You could barely sleep now that you’ve stopped doing your nightly routine.

“Take a nap in my van, I have cute pillows in there,” he scrunched his nose as he teased you, then released your thigh to stretch his arms in the air.

Thinking of how your class went to the zoo for a field trip once, and Eddie found the scariest-looking bats cute, you replied sweetly: “your definition of cute is not really the same as mine.”

“But, I think you’re cute, don’t you?” Eddie loved to make you blush with his not-so-suave comments. Said it was practice for whenever he goes to the bars and flirts with girls there. But he never was able to make them flustered in the way you always were.

You saw the teacher walk into class in your peripheral vision, and prayed that would mean you didn’t need to talk to your locker and desk neighbour for the next three quarters of an hour. “I’m not,” you shyly say while looking away from The Dealer completely.

“You’re such a good girl too,” his voice was deeper than normal.

He was wrong. So wrong. The guilt in your heart only deepens as his words echo in your ear, along with the voices of your priest telling you need to repent for your sins. If this day couldn’t have gotten any worse, of course the muse of your sinful thoughts believes you’re a good girl when you aren’t.

“I-I’m—” your words are saved by the bell and your teacher’s voice which booms through the classroom. You thought you were safe, thought that until lunch you could get away with not looking at the boy who makes you unknowingly rub your legs together. But no, the day that was going downhill, just hit rock bottom.

“This class is a bit different, it will be a work period since I’m assigning you a small project due Wednesday. That’s not a lot of time, so today will be a work period then tomorrow we will have a lesson. I hope that you all can get the project finished after school over the next couple days.”

Doing a small project wouldn't be so bad, would it? The curiousity sat in your brain momentarily before your thoughts went haywire. The teacher paired you off, specifically with the people you were sitting next to, where each duo would need to analyze and present a different chapter of The Picture of Dorian Gray. So after a beat of silence once the teacher’s explanation was over, the class erupted in murmured voices and squeaky chairs. But you couldn’t get yourself to move to face your project partner.

“Don’t kill me but, we may need to finish this tonight because tomorrow—”

“You have your g-gig, I remember,” spreading out your time with Eddie would have helped your intensifying sinful thoughts subside. At least until you got over your bad habit. But now, you both had to do this for your grades — mainly his — so there was no time to lose. Maybe this could be a positive distraction.

“How about we work on it today right after school so we can get it over with?” he suggests.

“Alright, I guess skipping band practice one time wouldn’t be so bad,” you start shaking your left leg again. If you were a sinner, why not fall down the path of delinquency — your tendency to accept defeat a little too quickly, and then spiral, was catching up to you now.

Eddie notices, and touches your thigh again to calm you down like he has so many times before, even a few minutes ago. Although now, you move your leg away from his grip. “No, no, no, you go be a good girl and head to band practice, then I’ll pick you up afterwards and we'll run to the library,” he says trying not to sound disappointed that you backed away from his touch.

“I’ll finish probably a little after half-past three today since there’s only one song to practice,” you state while opening the book to the assigned chapter. “What will you do while you wait?”

“Oh, you know, maybe do some buying and selling,” The Dealer says nonchalantly.

“Shopping?” you ask innocently.

“Of sorts,” he mimes the act of smoking a joint in your direction, and you look at him curiously before understanding what he meant. You remember your father telling you it’s not a good idea to be friends with your locker neighbour because he’s a sinner who does the Devil’s drugs.

Guess he rubbed off on you, while you rubbed off on something else.

The pang of guilt hit you again. Like a stab to the heart from God himself. Tonight, you’ll do penance until you sleep, before the Devil on your shoulder tells you to commit your sinfully bad habit again. “R-right,” you say quietly. “Let’s get started then, you have to stay focused, Eddie, do you promise?”

“Pinky promise, my dear,” he grabs your fingers that are so much smaller than his, and hooks his pinky onto yours. “Only if you promise to focus too. You’ve been zoning out all day long. When you walk from class to class it looks like you’re constantly about to puke.”

“I do not,” you say in a defiant whisper.

“So do,” he teases. “Listen, if I promise to stay focused the entire time while we try and finish this project, you’re gonna tell me why you’re acting this way. It’s worrying me.”

You pause, looking at Eddie’s weirdly mischievous eyes as he starts to rub the bottom of your back. “There’s nothing really bothering me, though.”

“You’re lying, aren’t you, pretty girl?” his fingers started circling in a pattern that brought pleasurable shivers up your spine. After years of giving you featherlight touches — because that’s what friends do, he said one day — he knew exactly where to grasp your body to make you relax.

“Let me think about it,” you slightly give in. However, you can’t get yourself to admit, again, how badly you want to confess your sins to the one who inspired them.

He notices how you started to squeeze your thighs together again during this class. “That’s all I ask,” Eddie chuckles before moving his hands to your waist to move your body closer to himself. “Now, don’t kill me again, but I didn’t read the chapter. Or the book, so,” he elongated the last word while looking at you with feign-innocence with his doe eyes and pursed lips.

One thing you unknowingly did admit, was just how easily you were able to fall for his manipulative ways.

-:-:-:-:-

As Eddie waited in his van for you to come out of band practice, all he could think about was how strange you’ve been acting throughout the day. You were always one to talk to him in shy tones as he would talk your ear off in any given conversation. Today was different though, and he wasn’t able to place a finger on it. What hurt him most was when you reacted to his touch by moving your leg away — a move you haven’t done in the years you had gotten used to his touch. Then, you didn’t join him for lunch like you did every Monday and Friday, since the other days you would be asked to join the band or church group tables.

Something was off, and Eddie feels like it has something to with the downcast image of you walking through Hawkins on Sunday afternoon. Today, he was going to figure it out.

Ever since the man found out his locker was next to yours on the first day of Freshman year, The Dealer became obsessed with you. Not that you noticed him often — Eddie was notorious for skipping class so much that even though you went to your locker between every class, you would only see him once a day during that year of high school. However, he definitely noticed you: your shyness, the way you kept your head down as you roamed the hallways to the next period, and how you had a tendency of jumping a little every time you closed your locker and saw him standing there at his.

The small silver crucifix that was dangling on your neck was the icing on the cake for Eddie. Realizing then, that you were an innocent Angel who went to Bible study and mass every week. While he could only ask God why He put him in such a shitty place with even shittier parents.

Your innocence astounded him — like when people would joke around about how you didn’t know what sex was, all you would do is blush; or how one time a Senior basketball player walked up to your locker and invited you on a date. He was infamous for keeping a list of all the girls he took the virginities of, and you were his next target. The only thing you did though, was thank him and tell him that Bible study was scheduled to be a long one this week so you would rather go to that.

Something possessive leaped out of Eddie that day as he overheard the conversation from behind the metal door. He had to have you, had to know what it was like to roam your mind. He would do anything to make sure you were his.

So he did. Slowly, as the days passed, he would start talking to you more, trying to get you out of your little shell. You were so quiet that sometimes he would need to get close to your figure as you spoke — not that he minded of course. Eddie genuinely did love your innocence and how you didn’t even realize that he was being a flirtatious pervert when he complimented you. That every time he mentioned you were wearing something nice that day, he would go home and picture fucking you in only that piece of clothing or jewelry. His favourite, being the image of you wearing only that tiny silver crucifix you both loved so much.

Then there were the touches you had grown accustomed to. Eddie would invite you to sit with him during lunch — where he would lightly touch your fingers as he went to steal a fry off your tray. Afterwards, he would take his perverted compliments further, by straightening out the fabric of your skirt or shirt collar for you even if it just came from the dry cleaners. The Dealer would do anything to have an excuse to caress your skin for one moment.

You had asked him one day when you had visited his home to watch a movie: “you touch me a lot, why?”

“Do you not like it? Sorry, I just really enjoy—” if he wasn’t already worried about the fact that you were in his trailer for the first time, his heart dropped at the thought that you might hate him for his touch.

“No,” you would never want to make Eddie feel guilty for his actions. Youth group lessons taught you better than that, since it was only right to be accepting of everyone. “What I mean is, I don’t see many other friends do that with each other and I feel bad for them.”

It was his turn to be curious now. “What do you mean?”

“Your touches are nice, Eddie, so soft and sweet. I wish that all people would feel as nice as this with their friends too.” Look at you being charitable with your experiences — when these touches were only meant for you.

“That’s what friends do, they find ways to make their friends feel good.”

“Do you want me to do it for you too?” you reach out to touch his shoulder awkwardly, but you weren’t one to enjoy touching other people yourself.

“Not if you don’t want to. You make me feel good by being there for me when I need it. While I do the same for you, when you need someone to support you,” it’s true; even through all his indecent intentions, Eddie truly found an innocent and friendly warmth within himself for you, besides his love of wanting to be more than friends.

You look at him with sweet eyes to innocently ask the next question. “Then may you please rub my back like you do sometimes? It makes my heartbeat calm down and this movie is scary.”

“Of course, Angel,” it was right then, Eddie realized how much he loved it when you were needy.

“I wish I could have you do this whenever my cousins want to watch horror movies with me. Honestly, my parents don’t even know I’m here. But I just like your tou–”

“Tsk tsk, so naughty. Where do they think you are?”

“Am not,” you exclaimed and Eddie could tell your heart was beating a lot faster than before so he started to rub sweet circles on your back. “Plus, they think I’m watching a movie at a friend’s house, just don’t know who. It’s not a lie. I’m still a good girl.”

“Yes, you are,” he proclaimed deeply, realizing his rebel tendencies have inspired you. While you nearly moaned as your heartbeat stabilized, his touch and his voice made you feel so much better.

When Eddie was home alone that night, he couldn’t stop replaying the small whimpers of yours he memorized. If it was the hormones, or your innocent eagerness to be alone with him and let him touch you — he would never know which one he loved more.

Eddie was a sinner, he knew that, and was able to empower himself with the label. No matter how many times people around Hawkins would rebuke him as the Devil, or how often he would get stares from kids at school as he started to talk to you more: none of it phased him. What he loved most about you was how easily your innocence became obliviousness when it came to his sins – that you would hear about them and refuse to believe he was such a bad person because he was always so nice to you. Eddie couldn’t seem to understand why.

What he did understand though, was that his biggest sin was that every damn day of his life he was on the path of no return when it came to wanting to corrupt your virtue. To make all of his fantasies become a reality as he wanted to slowly make you addicted to him.

Did you figure it out? Is that why you were so awkward with him throughout the day? Why did you beg for his familiar touch in his memories, but pull away today?

Eddie’s mind moved at a million miles a minute, unsure of what was going on. But one thing was for sure: he was going to find out exactly what was hurting you, and he was going to do everything in his power to relieve that pain.

A small tap on the driver door window brought him out of his overstimulated thoughts. “Are you ready to go?” Your voice was muffled by the barrier, but Eddie was able to hear you before nodding.

He chuckled at your tendency to knock everywhere before you entered. Even with the van, you never approached it first unless he was already in it, or opened the door for you — that was mainly because The Dealer wanted to have some semblance of being a gentleman to you, even if he took that opportunity to touch your back to guide you into your seat.

“So the library?” Eddie asked as he watched you put your bag on the floor and straighten your skirt in the seat, not looking him in the eye as you respond.

“Y-yeah, it probably won’t be crowded since it’s a Monday.”

You were wrong, so wrong. It looks like all of the English teachers assigned similar group projects to their classes, since the library was filled to the brim with students from all grades cooped up at tables. You started to get nervous, the library was going to be your saving grace as you worked on this project.

“Should we go to my place?” He asked while tugging on the strap of your backpack lightly to get your attention.

“No,” you exclaimed a little too loudly, shocking Eddie a bit. “We can j-just go to mine instead.”

If you two finished the tasks at his trailer, then you felt as if it was walking into the Devil’s lair — a place where Eddie sinned like your parents said he did. The memories of the times your friend made you feel warm were enough to commit your treacherous acts; goodness knows how you’ll be when you’re in a room where everything is him.

While bringing the Devil reincarnate into your home wasn’t the best idea, your house had your Bible and other religious paraphernalia to protect you from giving into temptation. But, that’s also the place where you committed your unknowing sin, night after night — you thought.

These conflicting thoughts were about to be the death of you, as long as the annoying throbbing between your legs and Eddie’s teasingly sinister voice didn’t get you first.

-:-:-:-:-

565 notes · View notes

pashterlengkap · 11 months

Text

Preacher tells congregants to cut ties with LGBTQ+ children while shouting slurs

Preacher Aaron Thompson of the Verity Baptist Church in Vancouver, Washington told his followers to cut ties with any LGBTQ+ members of their families while using slurs from the pulpit. “The gratuitous use of the f-word is going to be used in this sermon,” Thompson said in a sermon posted to Facebook that was posted by writer Hemant Mehta to Twitter. “The f-word I’m talking about is fa***t or f*g, ok?” --- Related Stories Hate pastor claims teachers are giving lessons on sodomy & allowing students to identify as cats Students identifying as dogs? Isn’t lying a sin? --- He claimed that Methodists are “sending people to hell” for accepting LGBTQ+ people. The United Methodist Church does not allow same-sex marriages or LGBTQ+ people to be ordained. Get the Daily Brief The news you care about, reported on by the people who care about you. “Any church that flies a rainbow flag outside of their building is not a real church, folks,” Thompson claimed. “And if there’s a bunch of fa***ts there, then there’s a bunch of molesters there because they’re all pedophiles.” He then brought up a hypothetical person who might not like what he was saying. “But my cousin, they’re really nice and they’re really sweet and they’re really cute and they’re so funny,” he said sarcastically. “You don’t know what they’re doing behind closed doors! Do you think they’re going to tell you the vile and wicked and beastlike things that they’re doing?” he said. “So even people that have like sisters or brothers or parents – God forbid – or any of this – Look, you know, respect your parents, honor your parents, but if they’re a fa***t, then have nothing to do with them!” Thompson said. “If they’re your kid, have nothing to do with them! If it’s your cousin, your best friend from high school, whatever!” “I would cut ties with any kid that was a f*g. My own kid, any kid. I don’t want to have anything to do with them.” Thompson then used the word “fa***t” repeatedly because “there’s no YouTube channel to get nuked.” He then accused the Southern Poverty Law Center – which follows extremists – of being “tied to the Jews somehow.” Christian hate-preacher Aaron Thompson delivered an 80-minute rant against LGBTQ people. Here's a short compilation of his vile statements. (I wore out my bleep button.) pic.twitter.com/tiW6jgUrax— Hemant Mehta (@hemantmehta) July 23, 2023 Verity Baptist Church is tied to the Sure Foundation Baptist Church in Spokane, Washington, which is part of the New Independent Fundamental Baptist (New IFB) movement, an extreme branch of Christianity with churches across the country. Thompson has preached at Sure Foundation Baptist Church in the past, including a sermon where he explained why he likes the word “fa***t”: the word “fa***t” just sounds nice to him, and he doesn’t believe his target audience will understand fancy words like “sodomite.” “And so what the inspired word is in this book is the right word, we shouldn’t be ashamed of it,” he said. “You’re like, ‘Well what about fa***t, you say fa***t, you say fa***t,’” he said. “It’s like yeah but when you say sodomite, most of the time people don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s not like everyone else there outside reads the Bible. It’s not like a real popular word.” “You can say homosexual, but it doesn’t have the negative connotation that it should have,” he complained. “Because the negative connotation that it should have is that they’re a bunch of freaks and that God pronounces the death penalty upon them in Leviticus 20:13.” “And I’m not gonna shy away from anything that the Bible says.” Christian hate-preacher Aaron Thompson says every word in the Bible matters. But anti-LGBTQ slurs, which are not in the Bible, are okay to use because they just sound better. pic.twitter.com/wk5kGVMhj9— Hemant Mehta (@hemantmehta) September 15, 2022 http://dlvr.it/Ssh6RB

0 notes

gatekeeper-watchman · 1 year

Text

Daily Devotionals for March 1, 2023

Proverbs: God's Wisdom for Daily Living Devotional Scripture: Proverbs 10:6-11:(KJV): 6 Blessings are upon the head of the just: but violence covereth the mouth of the wicked. 7 The memory of the just is blessed: but the name of the wicked shall rot. 8 The wise in heart will receive commandments: but a prating fool shall fall. 9 He that walketh uprightly walketh surely: but he that perverteth his ways shall be known. 10 He that winketh with the eye causeth sorrow: but a prating fool shall fall. 11 The mouth of a righteous man is a well of life: but violence covereth the mouth of the wicked.

Thought for the Day

Verse 6 - Throughout Scripture, we are told that we will reap what we sow. If we follow Scriptural advice, we will receive God's blessings. If we disregard it and continue to sin, we will receive the evil that sin produces.

Verse 7 - People remember what kind of things we do in life. History records the deeds of the wicked and the just, as does the Bible. This verse tells us that we will remember fondly the deeds of just people and bless them, while the names of wicked men leave a rotten memory. Even in families, honorable members are recalled with admiration, while shame attends the memory of the "black sheep." We should take inventory of our lives and ask ourselves what kind of legacy we are leaving behind us.

Verses 8-9 - Those who walk according to God's Word take sure steps, since they are led by God's Spirit. Fools fall because they do not walk upright; those who pervert their lives eventually will be found out. We are known by our deeds (Proverbs 20:11). Many Christians say the right things, but their lives reveal that they do not "walk the talk." Jesus describes them in Matthew 15:8: "This person draweth nigh unto me with their mouth and honoureth me with their lips, but their heart is far from me."

Verses 10-11 - Winking is often a signal that one is teasing or flirting. As used in verse 10, it indicates insidious designs toward someone. This kind of winking is done with impure intentions. Crafty people are often successful in their schemes against the naive. By contrast, the plans of fools usually fail and are ruined. A "prating fool" boasts idly, damaging both his own and others' lives. The word, "prating" means one who chatters foolishly and is an idle "blabbermouth." It is emotional violence to speak ugly things about others. Scripture warns us to guard our mouths and speak only what is edifying, for we reap the effects of our words. "A man's belly shall be satisfied with the fruit of his mouth; and with the increase of his lips shall he be filled. Death and life are in the power of the tongue: and they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof" (Proverbs 18:20-21). Let us speak about what brings life, and not what brings curses and death.

Prayer Devotional for the Day

Dear heavenly Father, we love you today and are grateful for all of Your goodness to us. Please forgive us when we have not spoken kindly of others. Help us to guard our mouths against speaking any kind of evil. May the words of our mouths and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in Your site. Lord, help us all cancel the words that we have spoken that have not agreed with the Word of God. We also cancel all evil words that have been spoken against us, our family, or my stewardship. Lord, please forgive those who would speak amiss against us. May Your people everywhere be careful to guard their tongues. Help us all to speak Your words and to be gracious and kind to one another. I ask this in the Holy name of Jesus. Amen.

From: Elder Steven P. Miller Founder of Gatekeeper-Watchman International Groups Jacksonville, Florida., Duval County, USA. https://www.facebook.com/groups/Sparkermiller.JAX.FL.USA https://www.tumblr.com/blog/gatekeeper-watchman https://www.facebook.com/Parkermiller/ Twitter: @GatekeeperWatchman1, @ParkermillerQ, @StevenPMiller6; #GWIG, #GWIN, #GWINGO, #Ephraim1, #IAM, #Sparkermiller, #Eldermiller1981

1 note · View note

pooma-bible · 2 years

Text

Greetings in the matchless Name of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Topic: The Believer & His Daily Behaviour (Part 03): The Believer & Unbelievers!

Rhema Word: Romans 12:14,16 (NKJV) “Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse.”…“Be of the same mind toward one another. Do not set your mind on high things, but associate with the humble. Do not be wise in your own opinion.”

Let’s pray. Our Gracious Loving Father, thank You for giving us an opportunity to meditate Your Word today along with Your children who have been called to live a holy life, Father. I commit everyone who are all meditating this message into Your mighty hand Father. Bless them and give them the oneness of Spirit and make their heart as a good land to receive each and every Word which is living and active Father. Thank You Holy Spirit for helping us to understand the in-depth treasure of Your Word and helping us to live a life as per Your Word Lord. We give all the Glory and Honour to You only Father. We pray in the mighty Name of Your beloved Son Jesus Christ. Amen.

The teaching of the whole passage outlined in Romans 12:1 to 15:13 deals with the believer and his daily behaviour comprising of (a) The Believer and God; (b) The Believer and Himself and Other Believers; (c) The Believer & Unbelievers; (d) The Believer & the State; (e) The Believer, His Fellow Citizens & The Threat of Time; (f) The Strong Believer & The Weak Believer; and (g) The Marks of a Strong Fellowship Within the Church.

We have been meditating the following in Seven Parts since last two weeks.

The Believer & His Daily Behaviour (Part 01): The Believer and God!

The Believer & His Daily Behaviour (Part 02): The Believer and Himself and Other Believers!

The Believer & His Daily Behaviour (Part 03): The Believer & Unbelievers!

The Believer & His Daily Behaviour (Part 04): The Believer & the State!

The Believer & His Daily Behaviour (Part 05): The Believer, His Fellow Citizens & The Threat of Time!

The Believer & His Daily Behaviour (Part 06): The Strong Believer & The Weak Believer!

The Believer & His Daily Behaviour (Part 07): The Marks of a Strong Fellowship Within the Church!

We have meditated first two parts in last two weeks. Let us try to understand the Third Part with the help of Holy Spirit today, The Believer & His Daily Behaviour (Part 03): The Believer & Unbelievers!

This passage in Romans 12:14-21 discusses about the believer is expected to conduct himself in the most noble fashion when dealing with the world of unbelievers. God expects His follower to control himself and to gain complete victory over his sinful nature. He expects the believer to give a strong testimony to the love of God, to demonstrate the love and forgiveness of God for all men.

Let us try to understand the following today, with the help of Holy Spirit:

(1) Bless Those Who Persecute You:

(2) Show Genuine Interest in the Experiences of Men:

(3) Seek Harmony & Associate with the Lowly:

(4) Live Above Reproach:

(5) Live at Peace with All:

(6) Give No Place to Revenge:

(1) Bless Those Who Persecute You:

The Bible says in Romans 12:14 “Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse.”

The believer is to bless those who persecute him. The word “bless” (eulogeo) means to speak well of. Therefore, the believer is charged to do something that could be most difficult: to speak well of those who persecute him. Picture how difficult this is when you are verbally or physically attacked: mistreated, insulted, by-passed, over looked, slandered, cursed, abused, injured. You are to bless the person who attacks you; you are to bless your persecutor whether he is your next door neighbour; employer; family member; friend; fellow worker; classmate; employee or fellow church member.

What does it mean to bless and to speak well of?

(i) It means to speak well to our persecutors. We do not react against them by cursing, speaking harshly or striking out at them. We do not try to hurt them either verbally or physically. On the contrary, we seek to find something that is commendable about them and we commend them for it.

Apostle Peter says in 1 Peter 3:9 “Not returning evil for evil or reviling for reviling, but on the contrary blessing, knowing that you were called to this, that you may inherit a blessing.”

Apostle Paul says in Ephesians 4:31-32 “Let all bitterness, wrath, anger, clamour, and evil speaking be put away from you, with all malice. And be kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you.”

(ii) It means to speak well about our persecutors. When speaking to others, we do not down the persecutor, but we mention some commendable trait. We praise some “good thing” about the person; we do not tear him down.

(iii) It means to pray for our persecutors. We must do as Jesus said and did.

Our Lord Jesus Christ said in Matthew 5:44 “But I say to you, love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you.” He further said in Luke 23:34 “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do.”

Lesson: Think of the impact upon persecutors when an attitude of love and blessing is demonstrated toward them. Every persecutor is not won to Christ, but every persecutor does have a strong witness, a strong witness that can be used by the Holy Spirit in the persecutor’s quiet and thoughtful moments. And some persecutors are won to Christ. This is what God is after.

Our Lord Jesus Christ said in John 3:16 “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.”

(iv) It means to do good to our persecutors.

Our Lord Jesus Christ said in Luke 6:27,35 “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you.” ... “But love your enemies, do good, and lend, hoping for nothing in return; and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High. For He is kind to the unthankful and evil.”

Apostle Paul says in Romans 12:20 “Therefore “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; If he is thirsty, give him a drink; For in so doing you will heap coals of fire on his head.”

(2) Show Genuine Interest in the Experiences of Men:

The Bible says in Romans 12:15 “Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep.”

The believer is to show genuine interest in the experiences of men. Two particular acts are mentioned:

(i) We are to rejoice with those who rejoice. This does not mean that we are to participate in what the world calls its joyful moments and affairs, that is, in the partying affairs of the world. Far from it, God calls the believer to separation (2 Corinthians 6:17-18). What it means is that we are to rejoice with our neighbours and friends and acquaintances when something good happens to them. We are to join them in their moment of joy: a new baby; some achievement; some promotion; soe new purchase; some recognition or some honour.

Whatever the moment of joy is, we are to rejoice with them. However, this charge is not as easy as it sounds on the surface, for it often goes against the grain of human nature. Too often it is human nature to envy a person’s success; to feel disappointment or to act indifferent.

Sometimes, we have a difficult time in rejoicing over another person’s success. This is the reason for this charge to the believer. The believer is to feel and act differently than the world. The believer is to conquer his nature: he is to feel joy over the success of others and to show his joy by congratulating and joining them in their moment of joy.

Lesson: Note that this is the very behaviour of God. God rejoices in the prosperity of His people.

That is why apostle Paul says in Romans 12:10 “Be kindly affectionate to one another with brotherly love, in honour giving preference to one another.” He again says in Ephesians 4:32 “And be kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you.” He further says in Colossians 3:12-13 “Therefore, as the elect of God, holy and beloved, put on tender mercies, kindness, humility, meekness, longsuffering; bearing with one another, and forgiving one another, if anyone has a complaint against another; even as Christ forgave you, so you also must do.”

(ii) We are to mourn with those who mourn. This, of course, refers to our friends and fellow men who are facing some trial or loss, some moment of suffering. It may be some pain or business loss, some family hurt or sorrow or suffering. No matter what it is that causes the weeping, the Christian believer is to draw near the person and feel with him. The noteworthy trait of the believer is empathy, the fact that he is touched by the weaknesses of men.

Note that this, too, is a trait of God.

The Bible says in Hebrews 4:15-16 “For we do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but was in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”

(3) Seek Harmony & Associate with the Lowly:

The Bible says in Romans 12:16 “Be of the same mind toward one another. Do not set your mind on high things, but associate with the humble. Do not be wise in your own opinion.”

The believer is to seek harmony and to associate with the lowly. Three very specific instructions are given:

(i) The believer is to “live in harmony” with others. This refers primarily to our attitude and behaviour toward others and their lot in life. The believer is to strive to get into the very mind of other men and to understand them. He is to strive to understand their lives: their person and being; their lot and condition in life; their status and position; and their needs and feelings.

The believer is to understand the other person to such a degree that he can completely identify and feel with the person. It is to be said that the believer is to “live in harmony” with the other person. Just think of the enormous impact such love and empathy would have upon the world in bringing peace and unity and in meeting the desperate needs of so many. How can the believer demonstrate such love and empathy? The next two points clearly answer the question.

Apostle Paul says in 1 Corinthians 1:10 “Now I plead with you, brethren, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that you all speak the same thing, and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be perfectly joined together in the same mind and in the same judgment.” He again says in 2 Corinthians 13:11 “Finally, brethren, farewell. Become complete. Be of good comfort, be of one mind, live in peace; and the God of love and peace will be with you.”

Apostle Paul further says in Philippians 1:27 “Only let your conduct be worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that whether I come and see you or am absent, I may hear of your affairs, that you stand fast in one spirit, with one mind striving together for the faith of the gospel.”

Apostle Peter says in 1 Peter 3:8 “Finally, all of you be of one mind, having compassion for one another; love as brothers, be tender-hearted, be courteous.”

(ii) The believer is not to be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. “Proud” refers to seeking the things of pre-eminence, honour, prestige and recognition. It means keeping one’s mind upon high-society; high position and affluence.

The believer is not to be snobbish, not to allow his mind to roam around in the prideful things of this world. On the contrary, he is to associate with people of low position. He is to look upon the poor and lowly and to give his life to meeting their needs. The believer is not to neglect, ignore, separate, criticize or despise the lowly. He is to associate and give himself to walking among them and helping them. He is to be friendly and kind, loving and gracious in helping to meet the needs of a desperate world.

Our Lord Jesus Christ said in Luke 22:26 “But not so among you; on the contrary, he who is greatest among you, let him be as the younger, and he who governs as he who serves.”

Apostle James says in James 2:1-4; 4:10 “My brethren, do not hold the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory, with partiality. For if there should come into your assembly a man with gold rings, in fine apparel, and there should also come in a poor man in filthy clothes, and you pay attention to the one wearing the fine clothes and say to him, “You sit here in a good place,” and say to the poor man, “You stand there,” or, “Sit here at my footstool,” have you not shown partiality among yourselves, and become judges with evil thoughts?” “Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and He will lift you up.”

Apostle Peter says in 1 Peter 5:5 “Likewise you younger people, submit yourselves to your elders. Yes, all of you be submissive to one another, and be clothed with humility, for “God resists the proud, but gives grace to the humble.”

(iii) The believer is not to be conceited. He is not to have too high an opinion of himself, as though he is above and better than the lowly. Of course, many do feel above and better than others, and they choose the most foolish of things to give them superior feelings, for example, clothes.

What is it that makes people conceited, that makes them feel above or better than others? While we stir our thoughts, just note how weak and shabby these things are (and yet people base their lives upon such weak things). People feel above and better than others because of clothes; recognition; social group; school; position; honour; cars; wealth; and job.

The list could go on and on but note how weak a foundation each of these provides to human life. Not just any one of them, but all of them could disappear or collapse overnight. The believer is not to walk through life as a conceited fool, thinking himself above and better than other persons. He is to walk humbly, knowing that he is a man just like all other men. He is of inestimable value, yes, but of no more value than any other man – even those who have little of this world’s vanishing possessions.

Note another fact that needs to be considered. The pride of intellect or fancied superiority is probably the worst pride there is. It is more insidious and more injurious than any other pride. It leads to a contempt of the opinions of others and an extreme reliance on self (Colossians 1:18; 3 John 9).

The attitude which the gospel requires is that of a little child: simple, trusting, and humble (Proverbs 3:7; Isaiah 5:21; Romans 11:25).

Apostle Paul says in Galatians 6:3 “For if anyone thinks himself to be something, when he is nothing, he deceives himself.”

The Bible says in Proverbs 3:7 “Do not be wise in your own eyes; Fear the Lord and depart from evil.”

The Bible says in Isaiah 5:21 “Woe to those who are wise in their own eyes, and prudent in their own sight!”

(4) Live Above Reproach:

The Bible says in Romans 12:17 “Repay no one evil for evil. Have regard for good things in the sight of all men.”

The believer is to live above reproach in the sight of all men. Two behaviours in particular are mentioned:

(i) The believer is not to react; he is not to repay evil for evil to anyone. In the world and in the course of behaviour between men, everyone is mistreated and reacted against at one time or another. Therefore, the believer suffers evil and mistreatment just as everyone else does – just in the course of behaviour as a man. However, the genuine believer also suffers evil and mistreatment because he is a follower of Jesus Christ. As a follower of Christ:

(a) the believer is living a life of righteousness and purity, honesty and truthfulness; and such behaviour is often opposed by the world. Therefore, the worldly person often opposes and abuses the believer.

(b) the believer is bearing testimony to the corruption of the world and to man’s need to escape the corruption by turning to Jesus Christ and His righteousness. Again, the worldly person often opposes the message of Jesus Christ and His righteousness.

The point is this: the believer is not to react against a person who mistreats and does evil against him. There are at least two reasons why he is not to react:

(A) Reaction will most likely lose the friendship of the person and lose all hope of ever reaching the person for Jesus Christ. The evil doer will be able to say, “A Christian did that to me”. The believer will have made Christ an unappealing Saviour. On the other hand, if the believer returns good for evil, he opens the door for eventual friendship and bears testimony to the love of God for all men, even for those who do evil.

(B) Reaction is not the way of God or of Christ.

Our Lord Jesus Christ said in Matthew 5:39,45 “But I tell you not to resist an evil person. But whoever slaps you on your right cheek, turn the other to him also.” …“That you may be sons of your Father in heaven; for He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust.”

Apostle Peter says in 1 Peter 3:9 “Not returning evil for evil or reviling for reviling, but on the contrary blessing, knowing that you were called to this, that you may inherit a blessing.”

(ii) The believer is to demonstrate good behaviour in the sight of all men. The word “careful” (pronooumenoi) means to think before acting. The idea is this: when someone does evil against the believer, the believer is to think before he acts. He is to think and pray through his behaviour. Why? So that he can respond in the right and proper way. The believer needs to do what is right and noble, and the only way to do it is to think the situation through.

Note another point, a critical point. Scripture clearly tells the believer why he is to respond this way: so that his honest and noble response is seen by men. In essence, the believer is to love by turning the other cheek to the evil doer in “eyes of everybody”. A strong testimony of God’s love will then be seen by men.

That is why apostle Paul says in Romans 13:8 “Owe no one anything except to love one another, for he who loves another has fulfilled the law.” He further says in 2 Corinthians 8:21 “Providing honourable things, not only in the sight of the Lord, but also in the sight of men.”

(5) Live at Peace with All:

The Bible says in Romans 12:18 “If it is possible, as much as depends on you, live peaceably with all men.”

The believer is to live at peace with everyone. However, peace is not always possible. There are two qualifications:

(a) If it is possible, the believer is to live at peace with everyone. However, it is not always possible. Some persons are troublemakers: grumblers, complainers, dissenters, splitters, fighters, ego-hunters, self-centered leaders, image-seekers, power-builders, war-mongers. Some persons have no interest in living at peace with the believer.

(b) As much as possible, the believer is to live at peace with everyone. The believer is to work for as much peace as possible. Some level of harmony and concord can be achieved at least some of the time. The believer is never to give up, not as long as there is hope for some degree of peace. He is to achieve as much peace as possible. However, remember, peace is not always possible – not with everyone.

Now, note two significant points that need to be carefully considered and thought through by every believer.

(i) The cause of conflict must not arise from a believer. He is to try everything possible to bring about peace and to keep peace (Romans 12:20; Matthew 5:39-41). However, this may be impossible because of the wickedness of others or because the control of peace is not within his hands. It is possible that some will not live peaceably. They continue to indulge every whim and live a life of repugnant license. Such living often threatens the peace and security, preservation and life of oneself and family and friends.

(ii) What is it that determines whether a believer is to turn the “other cheek or to defend himself? For example, Jesus spent His life combating evil and wrong, and He did not always turn the other cheek (John 18:22-23); neither did Paul (Acts 23:2-3). Paul encouraged the believer not to give license to anyone, and he was strict in the command. For example, he said that if a man did not work because of laziness, he should not eat (2 Thes.3:7,10).

The governing principle for the believer is clear: “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” (Romans 12:21). There are times when an attacker, if allowed to continue in his attack, is encouraged in his evil nature of indulgence and license. If allowed to continue, his evil overcomes the believer – either within through bitterness and revenge, or without through domination. Thus, a believer is not to sacrifice truth in order to preserve peace. Evil is not to be allowed to overcome truth.

The Bible says in Ecclesiastes 10:4 “If the spirit of the ruler rises against you, do not leave your post; For conciliation pacifies great offenses.”

Apostle Paul says in Romans 12:18 “If it is possible, as much as depends on you, live peaceably with all men.” He again says in Romans 14:19 “Therefore let us pursue the things which make for peace and the things by which one may edify another.”

The author of Hebrews says in Hebrews 12:14 “Pursue peace with all people, and holiness, without which no one will see the Lord.”

(6) Give No Place to Revenge:

The Bible says in Romans 12:19-21 “Beloved, do not avenge yourselves, but rather give place to wrath; for it is written, “Vengeance is Mine, I will repay,” says the Lord. Therefore, “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; If he is thirsty, give him a drink; For in so doing you will heap coals of fire on his head.” Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”

The believer is to give no place to revenge. There are three reasons for this charge:

(i) Vengeance belongs to God. Note the word, “Beloved”. The exhortation is definitely directed to believers. It would be a wonderful thing if all men practiced and lived by this rule, but the world never has and never will live free of vengeance. However, the beloved of God are given no choice. Any person who follows God is to leave vengeance up to God. Vengeance belongs to God, not to man. No man has the right to judge others, not in a private judgement nor in a personal vengeance. The right to judge and to execute vengeance is God’s and God’s alone. However, Scripture is clear: God will repay – God will execute vengeance. The day of His wrath is coming and it will be inescapable.

That is why apostle Paul says in Romans 12:19 “Beloved, do not avenge yourselves, but rather give place to wrath; for it is written, “Vengeance is Mine, I will repay,” says the Lord.” He again says in 2 Thessalonians 1:7-8 “And to give you who are troubled rest with us when the Lord Jesus is revealed from heaven with His mighty angels, in flaming fire taking vengeance on those who do not know God, and on those who do not obey the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

The Bible says in Deuteronomy 32:35 “Vengeance is Mine, and recompense; Their foot shall slip in due time; For the day of their calamity is at hand, And the things to come hasten upon them.”

The author of Hebrews says in Hebrews 10:30 “For we know Him who said, “Vengeance is Mine, I will repay,” says the Lord. And again, “The Lord will judge His people.”

(ii) Treating an enemy with kindness will affect him greatly. By doing good the believer heaps “burning coals” on his enemy’s head. This means at least two things:

(a) Kindness will shame and cause anguish for an enemy. In his lonely moments, his thoughts will focus upon his evil treatment of believers and cause him to think and wonder about God. There is some chance the enemy might repent and be converted.

That is why apostle Paul says in Romans 12:20 “Therefore, “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; If he is thirsty, give him a drink; For in so doing you will heap coals of fire on his head.”

The Bible says in Proverbs 25:21-22 “If your enemy is hungry, give him bread to eat; And if he is thirsty, give him water to drink; For so you will heap coals of fire on his head, And the Lord will reward you.”

(b) Kindness will store up wrath against the evil doer in the day of judgement. If an evil doer represses his thoughts of God and hardens himself more and more and continues in his wicked treatment of God’s people, then he stores up more and more wrath against himself in the terrible day of judgement.

Apostle Paul says in Romans 2:5 “But in accordance with your hardness and your impenitent heart you are treasuring up for yourself wrath in the day of wrath and revelation of the righteous judgment of God.”

(iii) Vengeance makes evil victorious. If the believer takes vengeance, then he allows evil to conquer him, and this he must never do. The believer is to conquer evil, never allowing evil to conquer him. Note how he conquers evil: by doing good. He overcomes evil by doing what he should do, in particular by doing good toward those who mistreat and abuse him.

Our Lord Jesus Christ said in Matthew 5:39-41,44 “But I tell you not to resist an evil person. But whoever slaps you on your right cheek, turn the other to him also. If anyone wants to sue you and take away your tunic, let him have your cloak also. And whoever compels you to go one mile, go with him two.” …“But I say to you, love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you.”

Apostle Paul says in Ephesians 4:26-27 “Be angry, and do not sin”: do not let the sun go down on your wrath, nor give place to the devil.” He further says in 1 Thessalonians 5:15 “See that no one renders evil for evil to anyone, but always pursue what is good both for yourselves and for all.”

Let us introspect ourselves.

Shall we speak well to our persecutors by finding something commendable about them?

Shall we speak well about our persecutors when speaking to others by praising some good things about them?

Shall we pray for our persecutors as our Lord Jesus Christ did?

Shall we demonstrate an attitude of love and blessing toward our persecutors so as to win them for our Lord Jesus Christ?

Shall we rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn?

Shall we seek harmony and to associate with the people of low position without having very high opinion of ourselves?

Shall we live a life without repaying evil for evil to anyone?

Shall we live a life of righteousness and purity, honesty and truthfulness even though we are opposed by the world?

Shall we bear testimony to the corruption of the world without reacting against a person who mistreats and does evil against us?

Shall we live at peace with everyone?

Shall we live a life without giving any place for revenge?

Let us Pray: Our Heavenly Gracious Father, we thank You for helping us to understand about “The Believer & His Daily Behaviour (Part 03): The Believer & Unbelievers” today, Father. Father, please help us to speak well to our persecutors by finding something commendable about them, help us to speak well about our persecutors when speaking to others by praising some good things about them, help us to pray for our persecutors, helps us to demonstrate an attitude of love and blessing toward our persecutors so as to win them for Your beloved Son Lord Jesus Christ, Father. Father, please help us to rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn, help us to seek harmony and to associate with the people of low position without having very high opinion of ourselves, help us to live a life without repaying evil for evil to anyone, help us to live a life of righteousness and purity, honesty and truthfulness even though we are opposed by the world, help us to bear testimony to the corruption of the world without reacting against a person who mistreats and does evil against us, help us to live at peace with everyone besides helping us to live a life without giving any place for revenge, Father. We thank You Father for accepting us when we approach You through Your beloved Son Jesus Christ besides being merciful on us and loving us so much and predestined us to receive Your promise of glory through Your beloved Son Jesus Christ, Father. We give all praise, glory and honour to Your Holy Name. In Jesus name we pray. Amen.

God bless you all.

0 notes

pllguy · 3 years

Text

My Pre-release Thoughts/Mini-Theory of PLL: Original Sin

Now this theory (the first of many) will cover what I assume will take place or be relevant to what will be happening in the Pretty Little Liars reboot Pretty Little Liars: Original Sin.

Based off of what has been released so far as of date of posting (August 19th, 2021) the reboot’s details that have been released are few but already say a lot about what will take place.

The synopsis of the show, in a statement released by HBO Max, follows below.

“Twenty years ago, a series of tragic events almost ripped the blue-collar town of Millwood apart. Now, in the present day, a group of disparate teen girls—a brand-new set of Little Liars—find themselves tormented by an unknown Assailant and made to pay for the secret sin their parents committed two decades ago…as well as their own. In the dark, coming-of-RAGE, horror-tinged drama Pretty Little Liars: Original Sin, we find ourselves miles away from Rosewood, but within the existing Pretty Little Liars universe—in a brand new town, with a new generation of Little Liars.”

So what does this tell us? The reboot will be set in a town near Rosewood which could potentially allow cameo appearances from the original show’s cast, though if that happened, it would need to feel organic. I’d love seeing the old cast reprise their characters for a special appearance but I think it would be best to keep the two separate from each other so as to not mess with the original show’s characters and what those writers and creators intended versus the new creators. Also this tells us that not only will this new group of Liars be getting into trouble and keeping secrets, but that their parents previously did something that someone is out for revenge for the past and present.

Ok, so what are sins? In view of the Christian faith, there are Seven Deadly Sins and also what some view as the “Original Sin”. The Seven Deadly Sins are pride, greed, wrath, envy, lust, gluttony, and laziness (sloth), while the Original Sin refers to the belief humans are born to sin through their genetics they inherited from the first man and woman, Adam and Eve who first sinned against God in the Garden of Eden. *(Other religions/faiths have sins but since this story will be set in modern-day Pennsylvania, I believe that if it has any religious allusions, it would be to the Christian faith - no disrespect to the others!)

It has been revealed that Bailee Madison, Maia Reficco, and Chandler Kinney, have been cast as Imogen Abel, Noa Oliver, and Tabby Hayworth, respectively (pictured below left to right as mentioned).

Now THIS is what stood out to me… In a show entitled Pretty Little Liars: Original Sin, they created a character whose last name is Abel. In the Bible, there is the famous story of Abel and Cain, where one brother kills the other. To sum it up, Cain and Abel are the sons of Adam and Eve - Cain born first and Abel second. So Cain grows jealous of Abel for the favoritism being shown to him by God, so Cain murders his own brother, Abel.

*Note: the original Pretty Little Liars books even alluded to the story of Abel and Cain as that is the basis for the twins storyline of Alison and Courtney… notice the names have the same first letters, except Courtney is Abel and Alison is Cain (since she murdered Courtney).

Now how does this tie into my theory?

Well I believe that the original sin committed by the Liars’ parents was murder of a classmate/friend/enemy for one of the 7 deadly sins (or maybe it was self-defense?). Imogen Abel will either be killed by her (secret/twin?) sibling (like Abel) or she will end up the killer (like Cain). Since the books twisted the Abel/Cain story to make the killer’s name start with “A” (and ultimately be known as “A”), I think it’s fair to guess that Imogen could be the real killer and “A” in the reboot. Also her parents will definitely be involved in the “original sin” since their last name is Abel and Abel’s parents were Adam and Eve who committed the original sin.

I’m unsure how much material the reboot will pull from the books and the original show in terms of storyline ideas or plot points, so who knows what to really expect! However, a few key staples of the Pretty Little Liars brand are things that some fans may be tired of but they are what have made the show and the books the phenomenon they are. They are:

1. a group of characters being targeted, harassed, stalked, and tormented by an unknown foe who is always a few steps ahead of their prey

2. the unknown stalker being connected to the group or a specific member of the group, and having their reason for their actions being tied to the group/individual in some twisted/straightforward way

3. the one thing some fans will be tired of but I personally *love* … TWINS. Yupp, there HAS to be twins at some point in the show, and it has to be crucial to the plot. It was the premise of the books’ storyline, and then in the last A arc storyline in the original show.

For the PLL reboot to feel like I’m watching a PLL-inspired show (since I know it’s all new content), there HAS to be the 3 plot points I just mentioned and I believe that will be factored into my earlier points about Imogen and her family. Imogen will be the new Alison, and she will be the one to have a twin or even be the new A.

Final thoughts/mini-theories:

- I’m pretty positive that twins will be involved in the mystery, to what extent I am unsure but I have strong feelings Imogen will be featured in that storyline.

- It’s possible that Imogen may be a twin, and if it’s not her, I believe it will be one of her parents, since their last name is Abel, tying back into what I explained earlier.

- The Liars in the reboot will be more proactive in figuring out the identity of their stalker and the underlying mystery, than their predecessors in the original TV series. *No hate to the OG Liars but it always felt like they never tried hard enough to get law enforcement or anyone to help them out until the later seasons instead of from the get-go.*

- I don’t want this reboot to be a faithful adaptation in the sense of using all the material from the books but applying it to new characters. I have mixed opinions on it being set in the same universe as the OG show but I’m glad they will have a new setting, characters, and plot. I do still wish they utilize the twins storyline because I personally LOVE twins and have always found the PLL Alison/Courtney storylines one of the best ever written in terms of the buildup to the reveal, the details dropped along the way, and just the way my mind was blown apart reading it the first time.

So that’s pretty much all I have at this point based off what has been released. Hopefully this show will bring back old fans, bring in new fans, and we can rebuild the PLL community here again! Let me know your thoughts/theories/comments about the reboot, or even about the original show(s) and books! ❤️

#pll #pretty little liars #pll reboot #pll original sin #pretty little liars original sin #bailee madison #maia reficco #chandler kinney #imogen abel #noa oliver #tabby hayworth #pll twins #pll twin theory #pll original sin theory #pllos #pll:os

61 notes · View notes

theshedding · 3 years

Text

Lil Nas X: Country Music, Christianity & Reclaiming HELL

I don’t typically bother myself to follow what Lil Nas X is doing from day to day, or even month to month but I do know that his “Old Town Road” hit became one of the biggest selling/streamed records in Country Music Business history (by a Black Country & Queer artist). “Black” is key because for 75+ years Country music has unsuspiciously evolved into a solidly White-identified genre (despite mixed and Indian & Black roots). Regrettably, Country music is also widely known for anti-black, misogynoir, reliably homophobic (Trans isn’t really a conversation yet), Christian and Hard Right sentiments on the political spectrum. Some other day I will venture into more; there is a whole analysis dying to be done on this exclusive practice in the music industry with its implications on ‘access’ to equity and opportunity for both Black/POC’s and Whites artists/songwriters alike. More commentary on this rigid homogeneous field is needed and how it prohibits certain talent(s) for the sake of perpetuating homogeneity (e.g. “social determinants” of diversity & viable artistic careers). I’ll refrain from discussing that fully here, though suffice it to say that for those reasons X’s “Old Town Road” was monumental and vindicating.

As for Lil Nas X, I’m not particularly a big fan of his music; but I see him, what he’s doing, his impact on music + culture and I celebrate him using these moments to affirm his Black, Queer self, and lifting up others. Believe it or not, even in the 2020′s, being “out” in the music business is still a costly choice. As an artist it remains much easier to just “play straight”. And despite appearances, the business (particularly Country) has been dragged kicking and screaming into developing, promoting and advancing openly-affirming LGBTQ 🏳️‍🌈 artists in the board room or on-stage. Though things are ‘better’ we have not yet arrived at a place of equity or opportunity for queer artists; for the road of music biz history is littered with stunted careers, bodies and limitations on artists who had no option but to follow conventional ways, fail or never be heard of in the first place. With few exceptions, record labels, radio and press/media have successfully used fear, intimidation, innuendo and coercion to dilute, downplay or erase any hint of queer identity from its performers. This was true even for obvious talents like Little Richard.

(Note: I’m particularly speaking of artists in this regard, not so much the hairstylists, make-up artists, PA’s, etc.)

_____

Which is why...in regard to Lil Nas X, whether you like, hate or love his music, the young brother is a trailblazer. His very existence protests (at least) decades of inequity, oppression and erasure. X aptly critiques a Neo-Christian Fascist Heteropatriarchy; not just in American society but throughout the Music Business and with Black people. That is no small deal. His unapologetic outness holds a mirror up to Christianity at-large, as an institution, theology and practice. The problem is they just don’t like what they see in that mirror.

In actuality, “Call Me By Your Name”, Lil Nas X’s new video, is a twist on classic mythology and religious memes that are less reprehensible or vulgar than the Biblical narratives most of us grew up on vís-a-vís indoctrinating smiles of Sunday school teachers and family prior to the “age of reason”. Think about the narratives blithely describing Satan’s friendly wager with God regarding Job (42:1-6); the horrific “prophecies” in St. John’s Book of Revelation (i.e. skies will rain fire, angels will spit swords, mankind will be forced to retreat into caves for shelter, and we will be harassed by at least three terrifying dragons and beasts. Angels will sound seven trumpets of warning, and later on, seven plagues will be dumped on the world), or Jesus’s own clarifying words of violent intent in Matthew (re: “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.” 10:34). Whether literal or metaphor, these age old stories pale in comparison to a three minute allegorical rap video. Conservatives: say what you will, I’m pretty confident X doesn’t take himself as seriously as “The true and living God” from the book of Job.

A little known fact as it is, people have debunked the story and evolution of Satan and already offered compelling research showing [he] is more of a literary device than an actual entity or “spirit” (Spoiler: In the Bible, Satan does not take shape as an actual “bad” person until the New Testament). In fact, modern Christianity’s impression of the “Devil” is shaped by conflating Hellenized mythology with a literary tradition rooted in Dante’s Inferno and accompanying spooks and superstitions going back thousands of years. Whether Catholic, Protestant, Mormon, Scientologist, Atheist or Agnostic, we’ve spent a lifetime with these predominant icons and clichés. (Resource: Prof. Bart D. Erhman, “Heaven & Hell”).

So Here’s THE PROBLEM: The current level of fear and outrage is:

(1) Unjust, imposing and irrational.

(2) Disproportionate when taken into account a lifetime of harmful Christian propaganda, anti-gay preaching and political advocacy.

(3) Historically inaccurate concerning the existence of “Hell” and who should be scared of going there.

Think I’m overreacting?

Examples:

Institutionalized Homophobia (rhetoric + policy)

Anti-Gay Ministers In Life And Death: Bishop Eddie Long And Rev. Bernice King

Black, gay and Christian, Marylanders struggle with Conflicts

Harlem pastor: 'Obama has released the homo demons on the black man'

Joel Olsteen: Homosexuality is “Not God’s Best”

Bishop Brandon Porter: Gays “Perverted & Lost...The Church of God in Christ Convocation appears like a ‘coming out party’ for members of the gay community.”

Kim Burrell: “That perverted homosexual spirit is a spirit of delusion & confusion and has deceived many men & women, and it has caused a strain on the body of Christ”

Falwell Suggests Gays to Blame for 9-11 Attacks

Pope Francis Blames The Devil For Sexual Abuse By Catholic Church

Pope Francis: Gay People Not Welcome in Clergy

Pope Francis Blames The Devil For Sexual Abuse By Catholic Church

The Pope and Gay People: Nothing’s Changed

The Catholic church silently lobbied against a suicide prevention hotline in the US because it included LGBT resources

Mormon church prohibits Children of LGBT parents to be baptized

Catholic Charity Ends Adoptions Rather Than Place Kid With Same-Sex Couple

I Was a Religious Zealot That Hurt People-Coming Out as Gay: A Former Conversion Therapy Leader Is Apologizing to the LGBTQ Community

The above short list chronicles a consistent, literal, demonization of LGBTQ people, contempt for their gender presentation, objectification of their bodies/sexuality and a coordinated pollution of media and culture over the last 50+ years by clergy since integration and Civil Rights legislation. Basically terrorism. Popes, Bishops, Pastors, Evangelists, Politicians, Television hosts, US Presidents, Camp Leaders, Teachers, Singers & Entertainers, Coaches, Athletes and Christians of all types all around the world have confused and confounded these issues, suppressed dissent, and confidently lied about LGBT people-including fellow Queer Christians with impunity for generations (i.e. “thou shall not bear false witness against they neighbor” Ex. 23:1-3). Christian majority viewpoints about “laws” and “nature” have run the table in discussions about LGBTQ people in society-so much that we collectively must first consider their religious views in all discussions and the specter of Christian approval -at best or Christian condescension -at worst. That is Christian (and straight) privilege. People are tired of this undue deference to religious opinions.

That is what is so deliciously bothersome about Lil Nas X being loud, proud and “in your face” about his sexuality. If for just a moment, he not only disrupts the American hetero-patriarchy but specifically the Black hetero-patriarchy, the so-called “Black Church Industrial Complex”, Neo-Christian Fascism and a mostly uneducated (and/or miseducated) public concerning Ancient Near East and European history, superstitions-and (by extension) White Supremacy. To round up: people are losing their minds because the victim decided to speak out against his victimizer.

Additionally, on some level I believe people are mad at him being just twenty years old, out and FREE as a self-assured, affirming & affirmed QUEER Black male entertainer with money and fame in the PRIME of his life. We’ve never, or rarely, seen that before in a Black man in the music business and popular culture. But that’s just too bad for them. With my own eyes I’ve watched straight people, friends, Christians, enjoy their sexuality from their elementary youth to adolescence, up and through college and later marriages, often times independently of their spouses (repeatedly). Meanwhile Queer/Gay/SGL/LGBTQ people are expected to put their lives on hold while the ‘blessed’ straight people run around exploring premarital/post-marital/extra-marital sex, love and affection, unbound & un-convicted by their “sin” or God...only to proudly rebrand themselves later in life as a good, moral “wholesome Christian” via the ‘sacred’ institution of marriage with no questions asked.

Inequality defined.

For Lil Nas X, everything about the society we've created for him in the last 100+ years (re: links above) has explicitly been designed for his life not to be his own. According to these and other Christians (see above), his identity is essentially supposed to be an endless rat fuck of internal confusion, suicide-ideation, depression, long-suffering, faux masculinity, heterosexism, groveling towards heaven, respectability politics, failed prayer and supplication to a heteronormative earthly and celestial hierarchy unbothered in affording LGBT people like him a healthy, sane human development. It’s almost as if the Conservative establishment (Black included) needs Lil Nas X to be like others before him: “private”, mysteriously single, suicidal, suspiciously straight or worse, dead of HIV/AIDS ...anything but driving down the street enjoying his youth as a Black Queer artist and man. So they mad about that?

Well those days are over.

-Rogiérs is a writer, international recording artist, performer and indie label manager with 25+ years in the music industry. He also directs Black Nonbelievers of DC, a non-profit org affiliated with the AHA supporting Black skeptics, Atheists, Agnostics & Humanists. He holds a B.A. in Music Business & Mgmt and a M.A. in Global Entertainment & Music Business from Berklee College of Music and Berklee Valencia, Spain. www.FibbyMusic.net Twitter/IG: @Rogiers1

91 notes · View notes

katokathy · 4 years

Text

About ADONIS Character Design

Not sure if anyone else noticed this, I thought it was pretty cool. It may just be my own speculation on Adonis’ character designs.

Mikuni Rei #1: His number is 1 and on his front shirt logo, in my opinion, looks like the earth at first glance. Symbolizing that we only have “one world”. The clip on his cloak looks like a morning star. What I think of first when morning star is mentioned is “Satan/Lucifer”. (Although I’m not religious so my speculation is probably incorrect). But morning star is mentioned in the bible for both “Satan” and “Jesus”. He plays the role as a savior or destroyer of the ideal world he believes in.

**Adding! Another user mentioned that to them, instead of the earth, his shirt symbol looks like a moon instead. Which definitely makes more sense! “The moon has 2 faces/sides, just as Mikuni does. An Adonis member and the son of the prime minister.”

Credulity: a tendency to be too ready to believe that something is real or true, especially on minimal or uncertain evidence.

Sanjou Keisuke #2: At first he was the only one where I couldn’t find a logo for “2″. But I noticed the two symbol on his shirt and it looks like a magatama. Which of course is similar to what we know, “Yin and Yang”. Good and evil. Sanjou was an ex cop who swore to law and protect. Then eventually joined Adonis to destroy. He’s shown to waver between the two sides. His shirt also has a lion dog image (or Japanese Komainu) which are creatures symbolized as guardians.

Corruption: dishonest or fraudulent conduct by those in power, typically involving bribery.

Uno Suzune #3: Her number is 3 and she’s wearing embellishments that symbolize a 3 leaf clover. Faith, hope and love. After her tragic past events, she desires those the most.

Craving: a powerful desire for something

Uno Shion #4: As Suzune’s twin brother, he also has a clover as his symbol but it’s a 4 leaf clover instead. Which adds “luck” to faith, hope and love. It’s seen on his hat, jacket and necklace. Coincidentally, the number “4″ is “shi” in Japanese, which also means death. Suzune also refers to him as “SHI-chan” for a nickname. There is an idiom, “to be (or to live) in a clover” which means to live a carefree life of ease, comfort and prosperity. Something that the Uno siblings have always dreamed of.

Dependence: the state of relying on or being controlled by someone or something else.

Souda Manabu #5: Souda has a 5 pointed star as a badge on his jacket. Also a star clip on his ponytail. The badge also says in English, “Oppose force with force.” Stars are represented as protective symbols and divine force. Souda is constantly referring to himself as “God” and is revealed to be protective/caring of his comrades in game. His keyword is loneliness, obviously for the fact that he has no one. Shunned by society, with only the “friends” in the digital world he seeks out to fill that void.

Loneliness: sadness because one has no friends or company.

Sugawara Rika #6: She has 6 pointed snowflake embellishments on her hair and coat. Snowflakes are symbols of rebirth and purity. Her keyword is fear from trauma of men and her stalker.

Fear: an unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat.

Sera Akito #7: His number is represented by the dice logo on his sweater. If you add all the numbers together: 1, 3, 5= 9. For 9 Executors. But only the 3 and 4 of the circles are more bold opposed to the 2 faded baby blue ones. So add that and you get 7. The number 7 is associated with luck and a dice symbolizes “Fate”. A roll can determine for you to achieve your destiny or it could make you descend further away from the goal. It will show whether you go to the “white route” or “black route”. Sera is shown to constantly hesitate between his path of good and evil and “You” decide his “Fate”.

Sin: an immoral act considered to be a transgression against divine law.

Kobayashi Hanako #8: Hana’s number 8 is shown on the 8 edged ribbon of her sweater. As well as the compass symbols on the sweater and stockings. A compass is means for “guidance”. Hana is a troubled girl who relies on Isshiki and his music to “point her in the right direction”. It’s said many times that his music helps people through troubled times and that they could relate to it. Rather than Zero, she regards Isshiki as her true hope and “Savior” which caused her to become obsessed with him.

Partiality: unfair bias in favor of one thing or person compared with another; favoritism.

Ogata Tomoki #9: Ogata’s number is 9 and is shown on his coat in the form of a fox. A “kitsune” in Asian culture is known to have 9 tails. He also says to Hoshino that he’s aware he has small eyes (which are often closed in the game). Kitsune have small, narrowed eyes and a cunning smile. His hair is also almost light blonde/silver in colour. They are known to be wise/intelligent but vengeful. A classic tale of the kitsune is when it disguises itself to have a lover/family. Until it’s true nature is revealed and is forced to leave the spouse and children, mirroring Ogata’s background.

Greed: intense and selfish desire for something, especially wealth, power, or food.

Saeki Yuzuru #0: Saeki doesn’t seem to have anything on him to indicate his number because of course he IS “Zero”. Null, nothing. It may also be why his outfit is very simple too. However, his personal symbol seems to be the anemone flower. It’s shown on his chain, gun and cloak. None of the other Adonis members wears this. I even checked Kurose Shu’s cloak and he doesn’t have the design. The chain at his shirt collar is also a morning star (refer to Mikuni). Even Hoshino referred to Saeki as “like the Devil”. Anemone flowers are typically considered as bad luck and ill tidings. But of course the most famous connection it has is to Adonis, the Greek figure. (The organization name isn’t a coincidence!)

The origin of the flower was when Aphrodite wept over the body of her mortal lover, Adonis. The gods killed him over jealousy of their affair. While Aphrodite was crying, Adonis shed blood on the anemones that came from her tears and stained them red. In Christianity, red anemones symbolized the blood that Christ shed on the Crucifixion. Going back to the star at his collar; Lucifer is the Latin name for the morning star. Which is actually not even a star but, the planet Venus. Venus, the Roman goddess is equivalent to Aphrodite.

The flowers can also have positive meaning. Hoshino is constantly surrounded by purple or white anemones when with the main boys. Because those colours symbolizes “sincerity” and “protection from evil”. Red is Saeki’s colour, which means: death or forsaken love. The origin story about love and loss forever marked the anemone flower and made it a symbol of sadness in love. If Saeki had a keyword, I’d say it would be

Forsaken: abandoned or deserted.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk of delusions. Saeki/Hoshino is Adonis/Aphrodite don’t change my mind lmao

#collar x malice #collar x malice unlimited #otome #ADONIS

228 notes · View notes

officialyourdailyinspiration · 3 years

Text

Devotional Hours Within the Bible

Obadiah and Elijah

1 Kings 18:5-16

There must have been a tender parting when the prophet ELIJAH went away from the widow's house. He had been there so long and his stay had been such a blessing to the little household, that his departure must have caused great sorrow. It is good for us to make ourselves so helpful and such a blessing, wherever we visit or tarry for a time, whether only for an hour, or a night, or for many days - that when we go away - we shall be missed and pleasantly remembered.

Not every one leaves fragrant memories, however, after such a stay; some fail to endear themselves to the household in which they are guests, and then their departure is a relief. It must have been a trial to the prophet, too, to go away from the quiet home where he had been so long, where he had been so kindly treated, especially since he was now to go into the presence of Ahab. However, he neither faltered nor hesitated in his obedience. Ease and comfort had no attraction to hold him back from duty. It required courage, too, to go and face the wicked king.

AHAB was a man of unscrupulous wickedness, and Jezebel, his wife, was one of the most dangerous women that ever lived. She had killed all the prophets of God she could lay her hands on. Elijah was especially obnoxious to the king and queen. They had been searching for him everywhere during the three and a half years of the famine, that they might destroy him. Yet there was no fear in the prophet. The divine commandments are always to be obeyed, and obeyed none the less promptly and cheerfully, when they take us out of the warmth - into the storm - than when they call us out of the storm - into the warmth.

OBADIAH, who appears in this part of the story, is an interesting character in his way. We are told that he "feared Jehovah greatly," and yet he was kept in a prominent position in the palace of Ahab. This certainly seems a strange place to find a godly man, a faithful servant of Jehovah. All were for Baal there. Baal's prophets swarmed about the royal residence. Jezebel was there - the wicked, vindictive, Jehovah-hating queen. Prophets of the Lord had been killed, every one who was opposed to Baal. Yet Obadiah was kept there. We are surprised that he was tolerated. Then we are surprised that he, being a godly man, stayed in such an ungodly place.

Probably it is a testimony to Obadiah's value and usefulness, that he was retained in the household of Ahab and Jezebel. We know that even wicked men, when they want trustworthy servants, prefer godly men. Obadiah may have been too valuable a person to be dispensed with, even though Ahab and Jezebel may have hated him. Yet ought Obadiah to have remained in that wicked court? The answer seems to be affirmative. That was the place where God wanted him to witness and shine as a light. Godly men are ofttimes needed in evil places. The godly are to be the salt of the earth, the light of the world. God needs them, too, as witnesses for Him.

The brief sketch of Obadiah given us here, suggests several lessons. One is that it is possible to live a true, godly life - even amid most ungodly influences and associations. We need only to make sure we are where God wants us to be. If so, and if only we are faithful, our religion will not be obscured or extinguished by any adverse influence. The stories of Joseph, Moses, and Daniel also illustrate this. Some men are even better in a hard environment, than in an easy one - just as some plants grow in the Arctic winter - that would die in an equatorial summer.

Obadiah seems to have been true to God - in a place where all was false. He maintained his faith and his worship. He was probably the only one there, who was not an idolator. We are told that he feared the Lord "greatly," which indicates a religion of a particularly positive and active kind. Yet we cannot help thinking that it must have been a secret faithfulness to God which he practiced. It is not likely that if he had been outspoken for Jehovah, he could have remained there.

Another suggestion from the story of Obadiah, is that God has different kinds of work - for different men. Elijah had his work - to flash like the lightning, to deliver his startling messages, and then vanish for years. The work of Obadiah was to witness for God, not in speech - but by a godly life in a corrupt court - and by his fidelity and courageous generosity to save alive a remnant of God's faithful ones. The only active service rendered by Obadiah to the cause of Jehovah, so far as we are told, was his saving a hundred prophets from the terrible persecution which Jezebel started. We may be sure that this was done secretly, for if Jezebel had known that a member of her own household was thus working against her, saving out of her hand a hundred of the men whom she wished to have destroyed, she would very soon have put an end to his life!

Still the service was a good one, however defective it may have been in its courage. It may have been that the divine providential reason why Obadiah was kept in the palace of Ahab, was that he might save these men. We may not know why God sometimes leaves us in an unpleasant place, where there is danger and where all is uncongenial and hard for us - but we may always be sure that He has some purpose in it - that we have an errand there for Him, that there is something, or there will be something, for us to do in that place.

We have a glimpse here of the great suffering which the famine brought upon the country. Famine is always terrible. In the three and a half years of this drought, there must have been very great suffering. Beasts as well as human beings were in distress. Ahab and Obadiah were both engaged in a search for grass to save the animals. They had gone all over the country, seeking out every little spot in which there might be a bit of pasture. There is no evidence of penitence in Ahab, at the close of the three years of famine. His heart had not been softened by it. There is not a word which indicates that he was bemoaning his sins, and crying to God for the removal of the judgment which these sins had brought upon the country. We find him still cursing Elijah as the cause of the trouble!

Nor is there any indication that the sufferings of the people had revealed anything humane and fatherly in the heart of their king. As he appears before us in this incident, he thinks only of his beasts - he does not want to lose his fine horses and mules! One writer says: "Strangely enough, Ahab at last begins to feel distressed and uneasy; but do you think it is for the myriads of his suffering people? No; but for the horses and mules, many of which have died; and the rest may soon perish, leaving him an impoverished king." There are men and women, even in these modern Christian days, who pet and stroke their dogs and cats - and revel in their luxuries - but who have no heart nor ear for the sufferings of their fellow-men!

It was as Obadiah was searching for pasture or for water for the animals, at the king's commandment, that Elijah, met him. Elijah needed the encouragement and comfort which Obadiah gave him in telling him of the saving of a hundred of God's prophets. He had thought that he was the only one in all the land who believed in Jehovah, and it must have given him great encouragement to find Obadiah still faithful to God - and to learn that there were at least a hundred others still living who were God's true followers. The meeting was, no doubt, a blessing to Obadiah also. It strengthened his faith and encouraged him in this time of distress - to stand face to face with the great prophet.

Obadiah, however, was not ready for the errand on which Elijah wished to send him. He knew the bitter resentment of Ahab, and was aware that for three and a half years he had been searching for Elijah that he might kill him. Therefore he feared the king's fury, when he should learn that Elijah was near. He feared, too, that the prophet would again disappear, and that when Ahab should fail to find him - he would kill Obadiah. Dr. Parker points out the inconsistency in Obadiah as shown in this incident. "Obadiah risked his life to save a hundred of the prophets of the Lord - yet dared not risk it without first receiving an oath for the greatest prophet of all."

At last, however, Elijah stood before Ahab. The king seemed glad, thinking that now, at last, he had the prophet in his power and could do with him what he chose. At once he charged him with being the troubler of Israel, the cause of all the distress which the people had suffered. That is the way always with such men as Ahab. They lay the blame of their sin, on somebody else. But Elijah was not awed by the king's charge. He answered, "I have not made trouble for Israel. But you and your father's family have. You have abandoned the LORD's commands and have followed the Baals!" It is the sinner who is the troubler, not the faithful messenger who comes with the warning. If Ahab had listened to God's warnings, his troubles never would have come. We can blame only ourselves, when our sins bring upon us woe and suffering.

#Devotional Hours Within the Bible #J.R. Miller #1 Kings 18:5-16 #Obadiah and Elijah #April 16 #2021

4 notes · View notes

hobbitsetal · 4 years

Note

I can’t ever be saved, and what I mean is this: I love my spouse, the kids, a show or game with them, science, experiencing new things, tasting new foods, petting every dog, having a home and other things. Clearly the Bible says if you love the world or things in the world you do not love God and He does not love you. How do I reconcile? How do I hate that which I love and have been blessed with? (I’m aware of the entertainment debate among Christians here as well, and it’s worldly)

Do you imagine your love for God is what saves you? No. “We love because he first loved us.” (1 John 4:19)

“But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God.” (emphasis mine.)

Let me make myself very clear: what you are saying is a form of an ancient heresy known as Gnosticism, and it was rejected categorically by the church within the first 200 years of Christianity. Indeed, one could argue the apostle John rejects Gnosticism with chapter 4 in declaring, “every spirit that confesses that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is from God.“

What is Gnosticism? It’s the belief that anything flesh, anything physical, is sin, and anything spiritual is good. This ignores the theology that God created us to be bodies as well as souls and that God is concerned about our bodies. This ignores that when God created the world, He declared it “good” over and over and over. And it ignores that God doesn’t plan to do away with creation, He intends to remake creation.

I’m quoting John extensively, so let’s take a look at the passage to which you’re referring, 1 John 2:15-17: “Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world—the desires of the flesh and the desires of the eyes and pride of life—is not from the Father but is from the world. And the world is passing away along with its desires, but whoever does the will of God abides forever.“

Hermeneutics! Big fancy Greek word meaning “how to study the Bible!” Who wrote it, to whom did he write it, when did he write, what was his purpose in writing it, what did he intend his audience to learn from it, and what does it mean to us today?

John (obviously) wrote 1 John, he wrote it to multiple Christian churches (probably in Asia Minor), he most likely wrote it no later than the 90s AD, he wrote to emphasize what Christ has done for us, I’d argue he wanted his audience to learn more about the love of God from it, and it means...heck, it means a lot to us today. It’s one of my favorite books.

So we know John wrote it. What else did John write? The Gospel of John, 2 and 3 John, and the book of Revelation are all historically/traditionally credited to the Apostle John. What’s a common theme for John? The world.

Here’s the thing: when John says “the world,” he refers to unregenerate mankind. He’s not referring to the created world. St. Augustine made the same divide when he referred to “the city of man vs the city of God.”

This is the only true divide in life: those who are redeemed by Christ and those are opposed to God.

Given this, I do not believe that John is condemning us for enjoying our spouses, entertainment, and children. I'd go further: we ought to praise God for these things!

James 1 says, "Do not be deceived, my beloved brothers. Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. Of his own will he brought us forth by the word of truth, that we should be a kind of firstfruits of his creatures. Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger; for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God. Therefore put away all filthiness and rampant wickedness and receive with meekness the implanted word, which is able to save your souls."

I'm quoting this passage at length for several reasons: first and foremost, to remind you that your spouse and children are good gifts. Psalms and Proverbs repeatedly speak of children as a good thing! Marriage itself, and your spouse by extension, is a picture of Christ's relationship with the church. It is not wrong to take joy in what God gives to us. Indeed, we are commanded to take joy in them!

I'm quoting it also because James goes on from "God gives us good things" to say "because God loves us and redeems us and gives us good things, be like God in these ways and put away these sins."

Galatians 5 is another example of this type of passage, and also brings me to my next argument for why you can and should enjoy science, shows and games, and time with your family.

"For the desires of the flesh are against the Spirit, and the desires of the Spirit are against the flesh, for these are opposed to each other, to keep you from doing the things you want to do. But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the law. Now the works of the flesh are evident: sexual immorality, impurity, sensuality, idolatry, sorcery, enmity, strife, jealousy, fits of anger, rivalries, dissensions, divisions, envy, drunkenness, orgies, and things like these. I warn you, as I warned you before, that those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God. But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self control; against such things there is no law. And those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires."

Let me highlight verse 18: "if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the law." Our deeds do not save us. How much love we have for God does not save us. The Spirit of the Lord and the sacrifice of Christ and the love of God the Trinity saves us.

Does spending time with your family, exploring science, or playing a game lead you into immorality? Does it tempt you to fight or get drunk? Or does it promote love within your family, joy in God's creation, kindness toward your children, patience and self control with your family members?

God is an ever-creative God. He crafted our senses, He gave us the intellect to explore His universe, He made us in His image so that we are capable of love and relationship and joy and play and fun. Don't mistake enjoying His gifts to mean we automatically dismiss the Giver.

As a final thought, I encourage you to look up Brad Bigney's "Gospel Treason," either book or sermon series. He explores the concept of idolatry and right worship clearly and well, and I think that would be helpful to you in considering this.

I have strong opinions on the entertainment debate, too, if you're ever interested in hearing those.

#theology #faith #Christianity #long post #i ran this by my dad #who is a doctor of Biblical counseling #so i'm very confident in my arguments

46 notes · View notes

heartofsnark · 4 years

Text

This is Love (Chapter Eight): Whispers of Wolves

Notes: Heyo, since A) I took a break and B) it’s friday the thirteenth, as it was when I posted the first chapter of this is love back in January, I decided to go ahead and post chapter 8 today. Chapter 9 is already done and I’ll be beginning work on chapter 10 soon, as this is my current hyper fixation. I hope you all enjoy.

Word Count: 8671

Chapter Warnings: Oh boy we got some shit today my dudes! Stories/Reference of Past Child Abuse, Animal Death In the Context of Hunting, Homphobic Slurs/Homphobia towards lesbians, and referenced past anti-Semitism. Less important but there’s a pov change and like three different quotes in this chapter, from the Book of Joseph, and two different songs, which is probably a lot but I ain’t editing this shit anymore

For chapter one and the warnings about this fic’s overarching themes, please click here!

For the previous chapter; click here

Pain cracks through Joseph’s skull late that night, shooting across from each temple, seeming to split his head apart. He sits on the edge of his small bed, a modest bedroom in the back of his church. He knows what it means, he’s grown accustomed to the sharp ringing pain, visions always come with it. They’ve started to come more frequently since The Lamb arrived.

He grabs at his head, as if he could press hard enough to keep his skull together as pain racks him, an instinctual reaction. Pain strikes through and breaks the reality of the world around him, closed eyes starting to see visions of what could be, images of what may await him.

A world anew surrounds him; one changed by the Collapse and washed of sins. Lush and natural, even more beautiful than the world that came before it. Vibrant pink flowers decorate the earth, thick green moss covering trees. A soft pink flowered apple tree stands at the center of the compound, white buildings replaced with hand made little houses.

Men and women are all around, working around New Eden. Parents playing with their children, carrying their babies; loyal followers allowed to pass through the gates and grow their family. Some members bring back hunted animals to be prepared for meals and others tending to gardens.

And then he sees his brothers and sister.

A fact that changes time and time again as his visions come to him in waves. He’s seen New Eden with and without them. He’s seen each of his siblings die time and time again, old and young, premonitions of what will be or what could be.

In this version, this vision, he’s been allowed his siblings. Faith, Jacob, and John talk at a distance where Joseph can’t quite hear the words, only taken in the moment. Jacob and John’s ages showing more clearly in the gray just starting to pepper their hair.

A voice rises above all others, cutting through the mumbled conversation through the compound, and Joseph knows it’s calling towards him. The soft voice calls him a name similar in meaning to his title, but it cuts to his heart so differently.

“Papa!”

Through the eyes of his older self, he can only watch and take in what happens, no control as he turns to see the source. A young boy of about five comes running towards Joseph, bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile. Joseph’s body moves of it’s own volition reaching out to hug his son, his son, but before he can feel the embrace of his child the world cracks apart again.

Pain splinters through the world and rips him from the moment, when he opens his eyes again he’s back in his room. And his hands itch to hold his son who’s yet to exist, instead he rubs at his temples, fingers knotting in his own hair as he attempts to soothe the agony within his own head. The only respite being what he hopes is a new promise from his creator. A chance for his family to not only walk with him to New Eden, but the chance to expand it.

He’ll have a son. The very idea soothes his pain and is like a salve to frayed nerves. Becoming an internal mantra as he eases himself back to sleep that night.

Sweat coats Dahlia’s skin as she does another push up, her muscles aching at the workout. She shifts to lay on her back on the living room floor, t-shirt riding up her sweaty stomach. Her second day of no work has turned into an impromptu work out, push up and using doorways for chin-ups. She uses her shirt to wipe sweat off her forehead before grabbing her phone to check the time. Dahlia must have gotten her way through the day, it has to be late by now.

“Fucking hell.”

It’s noon, it’s only fucking noon.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh!” She screams into a pillow, how the fuck is it only noon? Dahlia looks at the mess of her coffee table, trying to consider what to do just to eat at her time, she could draw again. But her hand is still cramping. She read somewhere you’re suppose to do warm up for drawing, she’ll have to start doing that.

Then she sees the Book of Joseph, her drawing still sticking out of it. She’s burned through her backlog of manga on her phone and fuck, it’s something to do. Joseph seemed like a genuinely sweet man, maybe he has something interesting to say. Music still blasting, because everything in her life requires a soundtrack, she opens the book.

“Bless the name of those who have dealt you blows.

Be grateful to those who have caused you harm.

For it is these sufferings that have led you to me.”

The first sermon in the book, she chews her lip, it’s not that much different from things Joseph told her yesterday, that he’s thankful her past led her to him. But, something rubs her wrong about the idea of being grateful for her abuse. Not for her, she plans on dying mad about it. She reads onward, an illustration of a flaming capital building surrounded by waves with someone drowning in the foreground. That’s…dramatic.

“If a person had been walking down the poorly maintained road out front of the Seed’s house on that afternoon in June and felt the strange urge to glance over, they would have witnessed a bizarre sight.

They would have seen a man dress in black pants and a white undershirt, frothing with anger, brandishing a comic book in one hand and a bible in the other at his son, a child of about ten. But no one had been down this in the poor suburb of Rome, Georgia, in a long time. Not ice cream trucks, not social service cars, not even police patrols.”

Dahlia stops almost three pages in as Joseph begins to write about a dying widow who once gave him and Jacob cakes before she grew sick. The picture he’s painted is far too clear and hits too close to home for her to continue, at least for the moment. A belligerent bible thumping drunk of a father who derided Joseph for loving Spiderman comics and beat Jacob’s back for the younger brother’s supposed misgivings.

Father Monroe, her stepfather, wasn’t quite the ruddy faced sloppy drunk that Old Man Seed was. But when Joseph describes Jacob offering his back up for a beating, she nearly feels the bite of leather against her own. Stripes for the backs of fools, is all she hears.

She wants to talk to Joseph, she realizes, thinking of both the beginning sermon passage and how their own pasts match up. Does he really bless the man who hurt him? Is he grateful for Old Man Seed? Maybe that kind of forgiveness and peace with it comes with age or is it just him? Ruth has a similar story as well, a little older than Dahlia, and she holds on to the same anger Dahlia does. Has Joseph managed to let it go? Does he still like Spiderman? Did his father beat the passion for comic books out of him or does he still enjoy them? Its hard to imagine, the intense Joseph Seed casually reading a comic book.

Less than three pages is a pathetic excuse for reading and didn’t pass much time, but it’s intense for her. So, she’d rather just…stare at the wall for a bit until she’s ready to tackle it again.

It’s Saturday night, Pratt and Hudson won’t be going to The Spread Eagle tonight, because no work. Meaning a rather mundane day with no interruptions. Other than a short walk, Dahlia spends the rest of it fucking around on her phone and watching shitty tv; passing out after downing an unevenly heated microwave meal.

Sunday morning rolls around, spent much like the last, Dahlia using her down time and excess energy to work out. It’s important to stay on top of exercising and staying in shape, given her profession, she makes a mental note to order some weights online. There’s not really a proper gym in the county and she doesn’t want to lose muscle.

She’s in the middle of another round of pushups when there’s a knock at her door; she jumps up from her position, skin still slick with sweat as she rushes towards the door. Finally, something to disrupt the monotony.

It’s Pratt standing on her porch, hazel eyes looking her over. She’s expecting a shitty comment on her appearance, dressed in shorts and a baggy shirt, hair mussed with sweat.

“You need something?” She asks him, slightly out of breath. Dahlia lifts the bottom of her shirt, using it to wipe sweat from her face, breeze skimming the bare skin of her stomach.

“What the hell has you sweating, Rook?” The older deputy chews his lip, avoiding eye contact for a moment.

“I was working out.”

“With a head injury? Seriously?”

“The fuck else am I suppose to do?”

“Figured you’d be bored out of your mind, reason I’m here,” he grins, “throw some clothes on and we can head out.”

“You mind if I shower first?” She asks, while she’s not sure where he plans on dragging her but she’d rather not stink like sweat while she’s there.

“Uh, yeah, sure that’s fine.”

“You wanna wait in here?”

He nods and Dahlia steps aside to let Pratt into her trailer, it’s not the most tidy of place because, well, she’s not the most tidy of people. She can feel the judgement starting to build up as Pratt looks around her messy living room. A pillow and blanket haphazardly on the couch; her duffle bag on the ground with clothes falling out of it. Her table has her sketchbook, thankfully closed, and the Book of Joseph is tucked under it. It’s a messy little nest, but it’s hers.

“Are you sleeping on your couch?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s just, I prefer it,” she explains with a shrug, not really sure how to elaborate on her weird feeling about sleeping in a bed.

“You have a bed, right?”

“Yes, I have a bed, I just, shut up. I don’t barge into your house and start judging how you live,” she pinches the bridge of her nose, “just sit down, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Dahlia grabs a change of clothes, hearing the couch springs creak as Pratt sits down. It’s weird seeing someone in her trailer. The closest she’s had to visitors have stayed on her porch. Pratt is the first person to be in her actual trailer, he looks immensely out of place and judging by his eyes glancing around, he seems to feel that way too. She tries not to think too hard about it, making a beeline to her bathroom.

She tries to keep her shower short, not wanting to make Pratt wait too long and not wanting him to snoop while he’s left alone. That doesn’t stop her from playing music as she showers, just limiting herself to two songs before she jumps out. A quick dry off and she tugs on her clothes, towel still on her damp hair as she walks back out to her living room.

Pratt, sure enough, has found something to snoop through. Dahlia grimaces at the sight of him picking through her little jewelry box of photos. Was he rifling through her dufflebag? She clears her throat, smirking when he jumps up.

“I was just-”

“Snooping,” she cuts him off, ruffling the towel over her hair.

“It fell out of your bag.”

“No it didn’t.”

“It did...after I kicked it a little, but it did fall out.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she snatches the little wooden box off the table, Lloyd and Caroline’s photo booklet was on top, so at least she probably avoided him seeing baby photos.

“You, uh, don’t look much like your parents. You adopted or something?”

She can’t help but chuckle as she puts it away; she can’t blame him for thinking Lloyd and Caroline must be her parents. The pair are both about Whitehorse’s age and why else would she have so many photos with a couple that age. But, the couple absolutely look nothing like her. Both fairer skinned and blue eyed; Lloyd with dark strawberry blonde hair and Caroline with light honey blonde locks. Short of some shenanigans the chance of them producing an olive skinned, brown eyed brunette is slim. And while the couple have their share of adopted children; Dahlia isn’t one of them.

“No.”

“Oh, uh…” She can nearly see the gears turning in Pratt’s head, her usual one word style of answering has put Caroline’s devotion in question and Dahlia won’t have that.

“They’re not my parents; legally or biologically.”

“Oh, you just hang out with old couples?”

“Maybe, maybe not, ain’t really any of your business,” she shrugs, “more importantly, where the hell are we supposed to be going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t trust your surprises.”

“Would you rather sit here and twiddle your thumbs all day?”

“Fuck no.”

“That’s what I thought, you ready to go then?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she throws the damp towel onto her laundry chair before shoving her feet into her boots, “lets get going.”

She locks up behind Pratt then follows him out to his car. Compared to the last time she was in his car, this is infinitely more relaxing. She hums along to the radio, resisting the urge to sing along. He probably already heard her yelling along to her music in the shower, she doesn’t need to blast his eardrums at close range. After one song ends and another shittier one begins she starts to fiddle with the radio setting.

“The driver is supposed to pick the music,” Pratt tells her as she flips through stations, trying to find a station playing something other than country.

“The driver needs to worry about the road, while I find something worth listening to.”

“Yeah, ‘cause your taste in music is so good.”

“I have excellent taste in music,” she turns to one station and it sounds like a choir.

Help me, Faith

Shield me from sorrow

From fear of tomorrow

“Turn that crap off, right now.”

“The hell is that?” It’s not a bad song like technically speaking, but it’s definitely a bit much.

“Peggie station, it's all crap, Eden’s Gate runs it. It’s all their choir music and sermons.”

“Gross, but the song ain’t that bad.”

“You might wanna have your head checked again.”

“Piss off.”

She finds something better, even if she doesn’t necessarily mind Eden’s Gate music, she’d rather listen to something without fear of a sermon coming up after. At the very least, Pratt doesn’t complain about her choice, a few more songs playing before they cross into Holland Valley.

“How’s your impromptu vacation been going?”

“Boring.”

“That’s what I thought,” he laughs, “figured you’d be going stir crazy by now.”

“So, you decided to come end my boredom?”

“No need to sound so excited,” Pratt rolls his eyes, not appreciating her lackluster response.

“Sorry, I, uh, do appreciate it,” she admits, looking out the windows, cheeks warming at it. It’s embarrassing to say that she is genuinely thankful. Hell she nearly jumped up and ran to the door like a dog when he knocked. Boredom is hell.

“Oh, it’s fine, I was bored too.”

They pull into the police station parking lot and she raises an eyebrow at him as he parks. He’s taken her to work? What on earth is he planning?

“Don’t look at me like that, you’re gonna enjoy this, c’mon.”

She follows him out and around the building to the helipad she noticed before, a black police grade helicopter on it. He doesn’t hesitate to climb into the pilot's seat, telling her to get in. She listens, climbing into the seat next to him. It looks like a mess of buttons and controls to her, none of them making sense. But Pratt confidently starts turning switches, lights coming to life in front of her. They’re going for a helicopter ride, holy shit.

“Pffft,” Pratt huffs out a laugh, “we’re not even in the air yet and you’re already grinning.”

“This is okay, right? Like, no one will mind.”

“I’m the only person at the station who can fly, so if they needed it, they’d be calling me anyway. Don’t worry.”

“I’m fine, I just wanted to know I can enjoy this guilt free.”

“And lift off,” Pratt says as he brings the chopper up off of the ground. The station grows smaller and smaller as they ascend up into the air.

“Wow…” Is all as can seem to say at first as the chopper kisses the sky.

They’re surrounded by a bright blue sky and puffy white clouds as Pratt flies across the county. Lush green forests and farms beneath them, mountains along the edges of the county. A top down view of animals running through, specks in their vision. She oohs and awes, unable to help acting like an excited child over the view. They fly along the county, Pratt is kind enough to answer her stupid questions about flying, what buttons and switches mean. She’s certain to a seasoned pilot her naïve question must be frustrating, but he grins with every answer. Before she knows it the sky around them has shifted to an awash of pinks and purples, the sun setting, before a midnight sky takes it place. Brilliant stars twinkling around them, feeling so close, like she could reach out and touch Andromeda.

Once it gets too late, Pratt lands back at the station, her cheeks ache from all the time smiling. He drives her back to the trailer park, the pair in comfortable silence as she hums along to the radio. Her thoughts drifting off as they are so quick to do. Pratt and her butted heads a bit when they first met, but he’s quickly become her closest friend in the county. Their light-hearted bickering and shenanigans have become her favorite part of her days in Hope County.

He walks with her to her trailer, shoulders brushing occasionally as they move. She turns to look at him when they reach her door. Dahlia clenches and unclenches her hands searching for what she wants to say.

“Thanks, a lot, really.”

“You like flying that much?”

“Not just for that, not to be all mushy and crap, but coming out here, keeping me from going nuts, being my friend. It, uh, means a lot, seriously.”

“Eh,” he scratches at the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes, “just watching out for you, probie.”

“Well, I appreciate it, I, uh, know I’m not the easiest person to get along with.”

“No one in this county is.”

“Good to know I fit in, I guess.”

“Uhh, you’re getting there, once you start stinking like beer all day and have a house full of deer heads, we’ll call it good.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she grins, “night.”

“Night.” She waves Pratt off before going back to her trailer to settle in for the night.

Monday is spent showing up to the station just to play with Petunia behind the building; just laying on the ground while the fluffy opossum crawls on her. She scratches along the marsupial’s back as they nuzzle into her neck.

“Aren’t you supposed to be home relaxing or something?” Beau asks and Dahlia shifts her head back to look at him.

“I am relaxing, what are you doing?”

“Well, everyone asked me to go see what that weirdo deputy was doing, so here I am.”

“Oh no, you hear that Petunia,” she looks at her opossum friend, “people think I’m weird.”

“Yeah, talk to the ‘possum, that’ll really show ‘em.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and he just rolls his eyes, leaving her alone for the moment. Pratt and Hudson invite her out to The Spread Eagle once the sun starts to set, but a steady throbbing ache has built in her head, she skipped pain meds. And the idea of the jukebox booming in her skull makes her turn it down for the night, once she’s back to work she’ll treat them to a meal there, she decides on the quiet ride home.

Dahlia wakes up the next day and decides to finally take that hike, wanting to explore some of the mountains and woods that surround the county. The brunt of the trails seem to be within the Whitetail Mountain area up north, the mountains in the Henbane are mostly around that statue and as much as she likes Joseph more than before; the statue is still creepy.

She tucks her sketchpad, pencils, water, and her pain meds in the storage under her motorcycle seat before she drives up to the mountains; the north section of the county is colder, a chill from the air as she rides up. She stops in at an Old Sun Outfitters, buying a little black backpack to carry her stuff in when she hikes.

The woods around her get thicker and thicker as rides further into the mountains, land growing steeper with every minute, civilization sparser and sparser; buildings harder to find, just peeks of wood or cement through trees. The trees clear on her right as a turn of the road leads her to a large parking lot with little hutch and a sign that says, ‘rest area’. The hutch says Valley View Overlook. It’s built at the top of a plateaued piece of land, not as towering as the mountains in the distance, but higher than the meager hills of the valley or river. She parks her motorcycle and packs the bag before taking in the view.

A small navel high fence, she imagines waist high for others, keep animals or children from just running off the side of the mountain. It’s a beautiful sight; she can see why the lot is named after it. She takes a deep breath of fresh mountain air looking out at the soft blue sky that meets the mountains in the horizon; the deep green forests further down. Air so clean and refreshing, but for some reason she finds herself pulling out a cigarette, to fill her lungs with smoke. Too much good needs a bad, she supposes. She watches the white clouds and birds flying through, as she lets smoke settle heavy in her lungs, only parting from the sight when her cigarette threatens to burn her fingers.

She follows along a little beaten trail through the woods, kicking up rocks and crushing grass underfoot as she lets the trees surround her. Grass rustles around where animals sneak through; deer running through, other hikers crossing her path, and hunters packing bucks back home with dogs sniffing along after them.

It doesn’t take long for her to go off the path, just walking in any direction that catches her interest. Deeper and deeper into the woods, following divots and drop offs, walking along the occasional stream of water that passes through the area. Her feet and head start to ache as hours pass, the cool air no longer able to chill her body as exertion coats her skin in sweat.

A hunting stand, one of many, is within the woods. Gray metal built around a tree with a ladder leading up. It’s empty, but if a hunter really needs it, she’ll move along. She climbs up curling her legs under her on the stand as she pulls off her back pack and red flannel, the sleeves now sweaty after her walk. Dahlia ties it around her waist, feeling the cool air on her skin as she takes a deep breath.

She takes a deep swig of water and one of the pain killers. There’s a crush of grass and she looks up to see a group of deer a short distance from the stand. A fawn and what may be younger deer, with a buck among them. The buck’s fur grayer in color than the richer warmer brown of the others. Dahlia gets out her sketchpad and pencils, balancing them on her knee as she takes the drawing the creatures. A calm energy and flow falls over her as she draws, the only sound the animals rustling within the woods. She’s better at drawing people than animals, she realizes, when she can’t quite get the right slope of the buck’s muzzle, but she doesn’t stress herself over it. No one will ever see her wonky deer. She looks up; the buck has gotten much closer, shuffling near the stand.

Dahlia puts her sketchbook aside, half finished wonky deer abandoned, as she moves to lay on her belly over the edge of the hunter’s stand. She stretches her hand out, his antlers high enough for her fingers to just brush the velvety texture. But that’s not what she’s after, wanting to pet the stags head. Dahlia shifts to a knee and a foot, she forces the fingers of one hand into the grating to keep a solid grip on the stand. She leverages herself to lean further and further out, stretching a hand out and nearly hanging completely off the stand. Her fingers just centimeters away from touching the stag’s head.

The fuzz of fur brushes across her fingers and the soft brown eyes looking up at her go blank; blood spraying from the side of the buck’s head as it’s body goes limp to the ground. She can’t help but jump back and fall on her ass; gasping at the now dead deer in front of the stand, the rest of them have scattered at the sight.

Maybe she should have expected it, being in hunter territory, but the closeness of it still startles her. There’s a heavy thud of boots, steady consistent footfalls crushing branches and grass beneath them. Ginger hair with shaved down sides and an army jacket; Jacob Seed.

This is likely the only time she’ll ever be taller than him, watching him from the stand as he shifts a bright red rifle from his hands to on his back. It seems so vivid and ostentatious compared to his utilitarian style of dress. There’s a childish urge to jump on his back and scare him. But, they don’t know each other well and he’s a veteran, so she can’t know how he’d react to the sort of thing. Maybe a boo would be okay, just something small?

“You enjoying the show, honey?”

Dahlia jolts, taken aback by the sudden acknowledgment. She tucks a strand of hair back behind her ear and chews her lip watching as he starts to gather up the slain deer; then he looks up at her, blue eyes sharp and harsh. All the masculine Seeds have blue eyes and intense stares; but Jacob’s gaze is colder than Joseph’s and more steady than John’s. Something almost predatory to it.

“I was drawing him,” she says after a moment, looking down at the stag.

“And I was hunting him.”

“Still would have appreciated another minute or two,” she says as she grabs her bag, throwing the sketchbook back inside before she jumps off the stand.

“So, you could flail around and try to pet him for another five minutes.”

“Hey,” she pouts, she was caught hanging from a hunting stand like the child she is, but, “wait, you saw me?”

He gives a vague grumble of agreeance, more preoccupied with tying up the hooves of his latest hunt to make it easier to carry.

“And you still shot? You could have shot my hand off.” Has this man never taken a gun safety course, she catches a glimpse of the scope on his rifle, there’s no way he didn’t see how close his shot was to her hand. He chuckles, dry and deep, mocking her.

“Relax, if I wanted to shoot you, you’d be dead by now.”

“Wow, that’s not comforting.”

“Wasn’t trying to be,” he says, standing up and packing the giant deer over his shoulder, like it’s nothing.

Dahlia reaches out to touch it, fingers brushing through soft fur, no warmth beneath it. She might as well be petting a rug. Jacob starts to walk off and she doesn’t know why, but she follows him. Hands clasped behind her back and walking heel to toe after him. Maybe it’s just because she’s curious about him. He’s the only one of the Seeds not to take a strange interest in her for whatever reason.

He doesn’t say anything at first, allowing her to follow along after him. Leaves and grass crush under foot as she follows along behind him, curious as to where he’s going or doing. She’s not sure what she expects, but it’s something to do if nothing else.

“You got somewhere to be?”

“Not really, no.” She tries to crane her head around, trying to get a better look at his face to gauge his reaction, but their height difference is too big to truly do so. The man has to be around a foot and a half taller than her; he seems even taller than the sheriff.

“Well, I do, so get out of here.” Her smirk drops, she was hoping to see him get more agitated like the youngest Seed brother, but his voice doesn’t rise. Staying the same steady deep timbre.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere you need to be, sweetheart.”

“The nicknames aren’t really necessary.” She can’t help but say, wrinkling her nose in annoyance, the condescending way he calls her sweetheart and honey make her nauseous.

“Neither is following me like a lost puppy dog; but here you are.”

“I’m bored.”

“Not my problem.”

“You killed my only entertainment, so it is now.”

He comes to a sudden stop and Dahlia has to stop herself from running into his back; she doesn’t particularly want deer corpse on her face. He turns to face her; expression still the same stern look he usually carries, and she misses his grin when he was talking to kids at the barbecue.

“Look here, deputy, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong and irritating me isn’t a habit you want to form. Get out of here.”

“Oh no,” she rolls her eyes, “I’m really scared.”

“Keep pushing, sweetheart, won’t get you anywhere.”

“God, you’re no fun.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

“Jacob is something wrong,” a voice cuts through their conversation, rough and masculine. And Dahlia see the long-haired man and short haired girl from the barbecue; the ones who shot her dirty looks when she talked back to Jacob.

“Nothing you need to concern yourselves with.”

“What are you doing here?” The woman asks Dahlia directly.

“Standing.”

“Fallon,” Jacob says the woman’s name, stern tone making her posture snap straighter, “I said it’s none of your concern. Let’s go.”

The three of them start to leave down a path; Fallon and the long-haired man have heavy bucks they pack as well. A hunting trip for Jacob and his…friends? Are they friends? That didn’t seem like friendship, but Dahlia is far from an expert on the matter. She offers a goodbye wave; but Fallon just rolls her eyes. Their steady footfalls leaving the deputy behind.

Well, it staved off the boredom for a while she supposes.

Dahlia lets out a huffy sigh, blowing loose strands of hair from her face as she begins back down the path she came. The sun is setting by the time she’s back to the parking lot and climbing on top of her bike.

Her stomach is growling by the time she’s driving down a main road, she sees the sign for The Grill Steak as she reaches the intersection. Dahlia pulls in, letting her stomach guide her actions, as she’s one to do.

It’s a small restaurant packed with groups of people from friends to families; she can feel the heat of the grill radiating through, the smell of her making her stomach growl. She settles into a booth by herself, when she reads through it the menu is full of gamey meat burgers and steaks. No signs of beef or pork; it’s all bison and deer. She wonders if the cook hunts everything himself, it wouldn’t surprise her, given what she’s seen of the county. He can hear the cook yelling something she can’t understand from the kitchen. Dahlia settles on ordering a cola and a deer burger; thinking about the hunted stag she saw Jacob kill.

As she waits on her food, the chatter of a group catches her ear. They’re not from Hope County; the different cadences of how they speak mingled with fancy latin technical terms tells her as much. Trying to be discreet; she glances at them over her shoulder. A group of four; two women and two men all around the same age. Dahlia’s not the brightest bulb in the pack by her own admission, but when she hears the words corvids and lupine, she realizes they’re talking about animals. It doesn’t shock her, given the abundance of wildlife in the county, certainly people would come to research them.

The door to the restaurant swings open and a man comes walking in, shoulders back and footfalls confident. It reminds her clearly of Jacob, the walk of a soldier, though this man isn’t quite as intimidating a figure. Older than Dahlia, though most people are, with a full dark beard and long scraggly dark hair. He doesn’t bother to take a seat at a booth or look at a menu, only giving a single wave to the cook in the back as he makes a beeline to the group. Dahlia shifts a little further down into her booth, not that anyone could truly tell she’s eavesdropping, but it gives a little more secrecy to it.

“You the conservationists?”

“Yeah, we’re studying the wildlife here… And you are?”

“Eli, not here to ‘cause trouble or anything like that, just wanted to give some friendly advice.”

“Friendly advice?”

“You need to watch yourselves out in those woods.”

“Pffft.”

“We’re well aware of how dangerous the wildlife out here can be. You-”

“No, you aren’t. There’s wolves-”

“And bears and mountain lions, oh my,” one of them jokes, “look, we know what we’re doing.”

“You’re not listening, they’re not regular wolves. They’ve been trained to kill and hunt people down on sight. Even if you avoid ‘em, you get on the cult’s bad side and they’ll send ‘em after you. You gotta be careful out here.”

“Okay, sure,” the eyeroll is nearly audible, “we’ll keep an eye out for killer cult wolves, don’t worry.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, alright.”

The man, Eli walks away, and Dahlia considers stopping him. Admitting her nosiness and ask him some of the million questions going through her mind. Surely by cult, he means Eden’s Gate, right? Dahlia can’t imagine who else he could mean. They’re small and close knit, but they’re not a cult, right? Cults imply something more out there or intense; they’re just a little Christian church. Joseph may have his own book, but they still follow Christian ideas of sins and scripture.

And wolves? How could they possibly be training wolves? It’s all so ridiculous and asinine, making gears spin and churn in her head until they overheat, but it was said with such conviction. By the time she brings herself to make a noise, Eli has already left, and it’s probably for the best. It’s too crazy to be true. Maybe he’s a tinfoil hat wearing type of guy, a conspiracy theorist like the Zip guy who leaves a newsletter in every damn corner of the county, screaming about chemtrails and baby farms.

She fills her stomach, deciding to leave that as it is, finally returning to her trailer late that night. A restless night of sleep with images of wolves and deer creeping around through her brain, nothing concrete enough to latch onto, but enough to unsettle.

A boring morning leads into a boring afternoon, time blurring before the sun has set and Dahlia’s finding herself pulling up to The Spread Eagle to catch her coworkers after their shift. She’s popped enough pain killers that the throb of music and noise is welcomed instead of irritating. A smile already gracing her lips when she catches Pratt and Hudson shooting the shit in the bar’s lowlight. As she sneaks up closer to them, their conversation starts to be audible over the tunes playing through the bar.

“I bet you break before then,” Hudson says, a teasing grin directed at Pratt.

“Hey, it’s only six months.”

“Please, you’re weak and you know it.”

“How much you wanna bet?”

Dahlia strikes, throwing her arms over Pratt’s shoulders, effectively hugging him from behind and leaning her weight into him. He’s warm and Dahlia can’t fight the impulse to squeeze him a little tighter. She breathes in the faint smell of coffee and cologne that still cling to him; comforting after so much time spent around him.

“Jesus fuck, when’d you get here?” Pratt blusters and at this close of a range Dahlia can see his cheeks pinkening under the scruff of his beard. Does this bother him?

“Right now.”

“You decided to come hang out again?” Hudson asks, grinning at the flustered Pratt.

“Mmhmm,” Dahlia hums into Pratt’s shoulder, pressing her face into him, “bored.”

“Get off me,” he grumbles and reaches back to swat at her hip.

“Ugh, buzzkill,” she bitches as she detaches from Pratt and climbs onto a bar stool, “so what the hell are you guys making bets about?”

Pratt coughs, trying to dislodge something from his throat, and Hudson laughs, “yeah, Pratt why don’t you tell her about our bet?”

“Don’t worry about it, Rook.”

“We still need to set an amount.”

“Fifty,” Pratt suggests and Dahlia wants to know even more what the hell they’re making bets about.

“Mmm, hundred.”

“Fine, if you’re comfortable losing that much.”

“Anyone gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“Nope.”

“Well, that’s gonna drive me crazy now, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and orders food, stuffing her face as she listens to her coworkers fill her in on anything of interest she’s missed during her off time. It’s not much, as usual, the workload in Hope County is pretty low stakes. Hunting violations, speeding tickets, and the like. Seems like her assault is about the most interesting case in a while. Dahlia’s tempted to ask if they know anything about wolf attacks but bites her tongue before she does. Hope County is filled with wildlife, wolf attacks have no doubt occurred to some degree and if she mentions the idea of trained cult wolves, they might start to think she’s buying into the conspiracy shit.

“Stop,” Pratt says suddenly, putting hand on Dahlia’s knee, “you’re shaking the whole damn bar.”

Her leg she realizes has been bouncing the whole time, the hike helped, workouts help, but she’s still breaming with pent up energy. There’s a rustle of movement and Dahlia is drawn to the open floor near the jukebox, she’s seen a few people dance here and there, a couple now and again swaying to softer tunes while she’s been here. But, it’s more crowded tonight, people laughing and dancing together.

“People are dancing,” she states the obvious.

“It’s ladies’ night, women drink free, so everyone’s extra, uh, energetic tonight,” Hudson tells her.

An upbeat song starts and Dahlia’s up in the next breath, she needs to move, burn off excess energy. And while her favorite club in Lake Charles isn’t exactly available to her anymore, she’ll jump at the chance to lose herself in a song.

You should be wilder, you're no fun at all.

Dahlia’s singing along as she sways and shifts through the crowd, body moving instinctually to the beat. There’s a woman about Dahlia’s age, long blonde hair and brown eyes, dancing as well and the deputy finds herself gravitating towards her.

Yeah, thanks for the input.

Thanks for the call.

She asks low into the woman’s ear, so she can be heard over the music, if she can dance with her. The response is a smile, lighting up the girl’s face, a nod of her head and then she’s pulling Dahlia in by the hips.

With dull knives and white hands

The blood of a stone

Cold to the touch, right

Right down to the bone

And then she loses herself in it. In the music that fills the bar, the feeling of a stranger touching her, the slide of her feet as she moves, the way hips knock together, the scratch in her throat as she sings lyrics in the woman’s ear, their grins as they laugh and bump noses together. It’s fun and it’s silly, a reason to move and forget life for a moment.

Cause you give me the electric twist and it kicks and it kicks like a pony.

And true, you might run away with it, it's a risk it's a risk yeah.

Because it kicks yeah.

It really kicks yeah.

Dahlia spins the woman with a laugh, before pulling the woman close against her again, wide smiles and bright eyes as their foreheads touch. There’s sweat sticking to their skin as the song winds down. Panted breaths ghosting over each other’s faces as they come down from exertion.

And the touch of your lips it's a shock not a kiss

It's electric twist, it's electric twist

“How much I gotta pay to see you kiss?!” A loud voice booms out, making Dahlia and her dance partner of the night separate. There’s a man, couldn’t be older than his mid twenties, sitting at the bar with his legs sprawled open drinking a beer at the table between the bar and the dance area. His eyes linger and look over both women’s bodies

“Can I help you?” Dahlia asks and furrows her brows, glowering at the man as she draws closer.

“Oh just enjoying the show, sweetheart.”

“Not your sweetheart and I’m not a damn show.”

“Pfff, don’t get your panties in a twist,” he turns back to his table and rolls his eyes, as if Dahlia’s the problem, “fucking dykes.”

The junior deputy grits her teeth and she sees from her peripheral the woman rubbing the back of her neck, letting her bangs fall into her face looking like she’d rather disappear.

“The fuck did you call us?” She can’t stop herself from speaking, barely managing to reign her anger in enough not do something worse.

“You heard me.”

“Fuck you!”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Pratt’s voice cuts through as the man starts to turn to retort, the warmth of her coworker’s hand wraps around the clenched fist she didn’t realize she had raised.

“Is something wrong?” Mary May calls out, starting to walk out from behind the bar.

“Everything’s fine,” Pratt responds before Dahlia can say anything and when she starts to speak, he looks at her to whisper, “you’re barely three weeks into your job, you really wanna be getting into bar fights?”

“He ca-”

“I heard what he said, Rook, but it ain’t worth your job.”

“You’re right,” she gnaws on her lip and looks down on the ground, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I get it, I just don’t want you doing anything stupid.”

“I need some fresh air.”

Dahlia leaves The Spread Eagle, noticing the woman she danced with has already vanished, unwilling to deal with the bullshit. A cool breezes ghosts over her sweaty skin as she sits down on the porch steps at the front of the bar; running her hands through her hair as she fights to ease her nerves. She digs a pack of cigarettes out of her jacket pocket

There’s a crush of footsteps as she lights one, bringing it to her lips, shiny black leather boots entering her vision.

“Dep-yoo-tee.”

“You Seeds can just smell when I’m sad, can’t you?” She teases looking up to see John, the neon bar sign setting his face aglow in the night as he chuckles at her.

“Not my intention, but if you’re in need of a talk, I’d be happy to oblige.”

“You weren’t coming out here to harass Mary May again, were you?”

“Deputy,” he puts his hand to his chest cartoonishly dramatic in his hurt, “h-harassment? That’s ridiculous. am I not allowed to visit with Ms. Fairgrave and just discuss our difference of opinions.”

His voice is ramping up in pitch as he defends himself and Dahlia can’t help but smile, appreciating the distraction from her own troubles.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure Mary May would have a different of opinion about that one. We still gotta talk about members stealing booze.”

“Our members would do no such thing; and I assure you, if there’s any harassment here, we’re the victims. We’ve been insulted, had our sermons interrupted, our practices mocked, Mary May herself once showed up our church simply to cause trouble.”

“Okay, okay, it’s a two-way street, I get it. Sit, we can chat for a bit,” she pats the section of porch step beside her and reluctantly after a beat of silence, he sits down, “so, Mary May caused trouble for you guys?”

“Yes, yes, she has and she’s not the only one; the people of this county have persecuted me and my family since we’ve been here.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, no one should mistreat you that way,” she looks him in the eye as she speaks, “and if it ever happens again, I want you to call down to the station, ask for me, and I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“Well, it’s certainly nice to know you’re on our side.”

“Ah, ah, I’m on everyone’s side. Mary May is owed the same respect as you and your family; and if you cause issues for her, I won’t hesitate to intervene for her sake as well. I’m here to keep everyone safe. Got to treat everyone like you wanna be treated, the whole spiel.”

“I know you’re not preaching biblical principles to me, dep-yoo-tee.”

“Not biblical, just a little maturity.”

“Are you implying I’m immature.“

“You’re a grown man spatting with a woman ten or more years younger than you; throwing a tantrum and pointing fingers when you’re told to behave.”

“First of all, I’m not that old,” Dahlia raises an eyebrow at him, “don’t look at me like that, I’m 32. Secondly, I am not a child. Mary May has-“

“And if she does something again, now that I’m here, let me know and I will help. But her actions don’t justify yours.”

“Fine, I’ll be sure to hold you to that promise, then.”

“I mean it’s less a promise and more so doing my job, but alright.”

She breathes out a plume of smoke, making sure to aim away from John’s face, his blue eyes track the movement and the nicotine fumes that escape into the air. An ex-smoker, she deems as she watches him staring at her lips and the cigarette between her fingers.

“You want a smoke?” She asks, offering her pack of cigarettes.

“Smoking is forbidden in Eden’s Gate.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Tattooed fingers pick out a cigarette and she lights it for him with a grin, watching him take a deep inhale and blowing out the smoke that fills his lungs. The soft rise of his chest and the gray clouds that billow out from parted lips. She notices for the first time the freckles on his neck and chest, shirt unbuttoned low enough to expose them. There’s thin fresh scratches along his hands and forearms, too superficial and fresh to match the deeper worn in scars, they look like cat scratches. And yeah, he seems like a cat guy.

“So, now that you’ve berated and tempted me, deputy,” he speaks after an exhale of smoke, “why were you out here pouting?”

“BREH!” She plops her back down on the porch with a vague animal long groan and throws her arms over her eyes, cigarette still between two fingers, must he remind of her own issues.

“Well that certainly wasn’t immature or dramatic.”

And she laughs, because he’s right, she can preach maturity all she wants to him. But, she’s still a brat herself. She’d justify herself with their massive age difference, because no way he’s thirty-two, but that feels flimsy at best. They’re both just two temper tantrum throwing children, hell they’re even both fibbing about their ages. Though, she suspects his own much more severe than the few months she adds to her own.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You know,” he lays back on the porch, matching her position, “I take the confessions for our church, if there’s anything you need to get off your chest, I’m the man to talk to.”

“Not much to say; guy called me a slur, I nearly throttled him.”

“Someone else’s actions don’t justify your own,” he parrots her words back to her.

“Yeah, someday I’ll follow my own advice.”

“Has that happened before?”

The gears in her brain churn, she’s been called many a thing, but her sexuality has been one of the less insulted facets of who she is.

Her stepfather, as religious as he was, was adamant on his hatred of gay people. But her own disinterest in exploring her sexuality or romance saved her from his scorn in that area, his focus more on the other various things he found deplorable about her.

Her mother’s side is Ashkenazi Jewish, and Dahlia remembers the few people of her stepfather’s church who despite her mother converting were disgusted their preacher would marry a Jewish woman. A handful leaving the church, a few sticking by just to call Dahlia and her mother slurs when their backs were turned.

The nightclub she favored in Louisiana was considered a gay bar, though not exclusive to LGBT folks. Women dancing with women, men dancing with men, men and women dancing; and a healthy amount of people who didn’t quite fit either label. Only one-night sticks out, a car speeding past the line outside the bar just to scream a slur out the window.

Maybe what bothered her most was the boldness. This wasn’t someone whispering when they thought Dahlia couldn’t hear, and this wasn’t a man just screaming out at the public as he speeds away. Just a man emboldened and willing to hurt her in front of a bar filled with people.

“We’re blocking the door.”Everything else died on her lips; unable to spill her guts.

“And we weren’t while you were lecturing me?”

Her phone buzzes in her jacket as she brings her cigarette back into her mouth, unwilling to justify her evasiveness to a man she barely knows, she answers a number she doesn’t know at all.

“Hello?” She says around her smoke.

“H-hello, is this a deputy?” A soft broken voice, she remembers from the diner, asks her and Dahlia sits up, tension pricking at the back of her neck.

“That’s me, Cassie?”

“You remember me…”

“What’s going on, are you okay?”

“Yeah, uh, I…” a beat of silence and a choked sob comes next, “no, I’m sorry, I’m, I’m not okay, I-“

“Where are you?” Dahlia’s on her feet, heartbeat in her throat as she waves off John’s furrowed brows and concern, running to her bike.

“I’m at the diner. I didn’t know where else to go…”

“I’m headed your way now, Cassie, are you safe?”

“I…I don’t know…I…”

Her voice breaks out into sobs again as Dahlia starts her engine, slams on her helmet, and switches her phone to the speaker in her helmet. The girl’s cries echoing around her as her wheels kick gravel across the parking lot, speeding out of Falls End.

#far cry 5 #fc5 #john seed #jacob seed #this is love #dahlia hale #joseph seed #if you ever think im like smart or competent i want you to know that everytime i post a chapter i doubt my ability to count #like i know last chapter was chapter 7 but am I reeeeallly on chapter 8 is that reaaaaalllly how numbers work

12 notes · View notes

exxar1 · 3 years

Text

Chapter 14 “The Miracle of Easter, Psalm 139

4/3/2021

Psalm 139: 13-16 (NKJV)

“For You formed my inward parts; You covered me in my mother’s womb. I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; marvelous are Your works, and that my soul knows very well.

My frame was not hidden from You, when I was made in secret, and skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth. Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed. And in Your book they all were written, the days fashioned for me, when as yet there were none of them.”

I honestly don’t remember exactly where, when or how I stumbled onto this psalm. It was sometime in the last couple weeks, and I remember being immediately captivated by David’s poetry of God’s perfect knowledge of mankind. Just a few verses before the passage I quoted above, David asks his creator where he can flee that God will not find him? Whether heaven or hell or the highest mountain or the uttermost parts of the sea, David marvels that God will always find him and be with him, no matter what. (This brought to mind that children’s book where a small child asks his mother if she will still be able to find him no matter what animal he becomes and where he hides. The mother answers that she will always find and love her precious son, no matter what.)

Then I read the four verses that I quoted above, and I had to stop short. I read them again and again, soaking in the words that were at once familiar and suddenly brand new. Somewhere in my early childhood I had memorized verses 13 and 14. Now, pairing them with verses 15 and 16 I was struck by David’s message, especially in verse 16. In the KJV translation, that verse reads, “Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being unperfect; and in Thy book all my members were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them.” This verse was new to me, but I had a pretty good idea of what David was saying. But, to get a better idea, I reached for my MacArthur study Bible which is published in the NKJV translation. As soon as I read verse 16 there, I smiled to myself. Yes, I was right.

For the last two weeks I have not been able to get this verse out of my head. God knew me before I was even conceived. He had numbered all my days, had written my whole life from beginning to end, before I was even born. I have been trying to wrap my puny, finite mind around this inconceivable, quantum-sized yet massively cosmological concept. How does a being that exists outside our known space and time, a being that has always been and always shall be, a being that knows my entire life’s story before it’s even begun, a being more vast and omnipresent than the universe He created, have any interest at all in the comparatively insignificant, finite, puny beings that He created but who then immediately disobeyed and rejected Him?

God could have started over. He had no obligation to Adam and Eve whatsoever. He could have wiped them from existence with a single, spoken word. And, in fact, a millennium or so later, He did wipe out all of the human race and started over with just Noah and his family. And even then, mankind has still behaved towards God with great rebellion and sin. In my own life, I declared a long time ago that God didn’t exist. I even said at one point to myself, in the deepest dark of my teenage despair that I hated God. I hated Him for the way He had made me.

And yet, according to Psalm 139:16, God knew every word, every action, every rebellious thought that I would hurl at Him before I was even born. He also knew the day I would raise my eyes to the night sky behind the neon streetlamps six months ago and whisper a sinner’s prayer of forgiveness and surrender. He knows the exact time and day of my death or if I’ll still be alive the day that His son returns in the clouds to rapture the believers home. He knows my every choice, my every thought, my every deed before I make any of them, and He has always kept me wrapped in His arms my whole life, patiently waiting until I was finally ready to wholly and completely surrender to Him.

I have been trying to understand not only the very existence and nature of God, but, more importantly, the depth and power of that kind of love. I have failed at both counts. Instead, I have only been able to quote verse 14 over and over. “I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; marvelous are Your works, and that my soul knows very well.” My soul understands what my frail, limited mind cannot: that God, my Lord and Creator, my Great Savior, loves me in spite of my sin nature; in spite of all I have said and done against him; in spite of all my failures, both past and future.

He loved me enough to provide a way for my salvation.

Tomorrow is Easter Sunday. It’s the day we who believe in God and what His son did for us on the cross celebrate Jesus’ resurrection and His victory over death. This is a Bible story that I have known my whole life. I have sat through countless sermons and Sunday School lessons and family devotionals, and I have listened to my parents, my teachers, and my pastor expound on the greatest truth found in God’s Holy Word. This is the foundation of our faith, the only reason and sole hope of our frail, finite human existence. I know the timeline, the major events starting with the last supper, to the Christ’s anguished, desperate prayer to His heavenly father in the Garden of Gethsemane, to the moment of death and the earthquake that tore the temple veil in two. I know that Peter denied his Lord three times, that the trial was a mockery, that Christ knew that Judas would betray Him, and that Pontius Pilate washed his hands of the matter after his wife told him she suffered a restless night of strange dreams about this particular Jewish rabbi.

I know about the crown of thorns, the beatings, the piercing of His side, the blood and vinegar that flowed from the wound, the nails that were driven into his hands and feet, the excruciating pain and extreme suffering that he endured while hanging there for many hours. I also know about the two thieves – one who acknowledged the lordship of Christ, and the other who stubbornly refused to believe in spite of the evidence right before his own eyes. I know that Christ finally gave up the ghost by raising His weary, bloodied head to the darkened sky and crying, “It is finished!”

I know that He was laid in the tomb after being wrapped carefully and reverently by his followers as they wept with great sorrow and grief. I know that on the morning of the third day, when Mary and Martha came to the tomb, and when they found the stone rolled away and Jesus’ body gone, that they were both afraid and thoroughly confused. I also know that the angel of the Lord asked them, “Why seek ye the living among the dead? He is not here, for he is risen as he promised! Go, and tell his disciples the good news!” And so they did.

I have known that story my whole life, every gory and heartbreaking detail. I have memorized many verses from the four gospels that speak of that great story. But, until this year, I have never known it in my heart and soul.

The God that David speaks of in Psalm 139 has known all my comings and goings, all of my thoughts and words, all my choices and heartbreaks, all my joys and accomplishments, all my times of deepest sorrows and despairs, before I was even conceived in my mother’s womb. He knows me from the very molecules of the protein strands of my DNA to every spiritual corner of my soul. His fingerprints are stamped into my genetic code, and He has loved me always.

I cannot fathom this, and my heart breaks as I contemplate the act of sacrifice that His son made on that cross on Golgotha’s Hill two millennia ago. Just writing those paragraphs describing the story of His death and resurrection has caused me to weep for what I did to send Him there. He bore the sin of ALL mankind – past, present and future – on that cross. That glorious, wonderous, terrible cross. He died for you, and He died for me.

Three months ago I started to expand my Apple music library with new albums and songs by current Christian singers and songwriters. One of them, Chris Tomlin, has a song called “The Wonderful Cross”. It’s his own arrangement of the hymn by Isaac Watts titled “When I Survey The Wonderous Cross.” I have been playing this song over and over during my daily commutes to work for the last few weeks.

When I survey the wonderous cross/On which the prince of glory died/My richest gain I count but loss/And pour contempt on all my pride

See from His head, His hands, His feet/Sorrow and love flow mingled down/Did e’er such love and sorrow meet/Or thorns compose so rich a crown

And now Chris’ own chorus:

Oh the wonderful cross/Oh the wonderful cross/Bids me come and die and find that I may truly live/Oh the wonderful cross/Oh the wonderful cross/All who gather here by grace draw near and bless Your name

This verse by Watts is what gets me every time:

Were the whole realm of nature mine/That were an offering far too small/Love so amazing, so divine/Demands my soul, my life, my all

I come before you, O Lord God, a sinner saved by grace. I recognize that I am not worthy of Your love, Your mercy, or Your forgiveness. But You loved me so greatly and so deeply that You sent Your only son to be born of a virgin, to live as one of us, and then to die by our filthy, vile hands so that we could all be washed beneath His pure blood. By this, you gave us a way to salvation, and all that I have to do is accept this gift by praying and believing in Your name. There is nothing that I could ever do on my own to attain this, and I promise you, O God, that for as long as I live, as long as You give me the ability to draw breath, that I will give You nothing less than my soul, my life, and my all.

Amen.

#easter #God #resurrection sunday #Christianity #the cross of calvary

4 notes · View notes

yutacentric · 4 years

Text

𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲

↦ pairing : nakamoto yuta x female reader . ↦ genre : angst , smut . ↦ sub genre : church boy!yuta , neighbors!au , fwb!au ↦ tropes : mutual pining , friends with benefits , small town lovers . ↦ word count : 5082 . ↦ warnings : religion , smut , brief mention of smoking , all lowercase .

a / n : i’m just here to drop this & then go back to lurking , it’s just been in my head so long that i need to let it out . this is unedited & probably doesn’t make sense , but we r just gonna roll with it & pretend that it does . i might just . Linger after posting this but if u’ve an nct 127 member + a specific au , perhaps , let me know . anyway ,,,

playlist : every chase atlantic song ever ( see : church & devilish ) , no right to love you by rhys lewis , god don’t leave me by highasakite .

i. he asks you of your virtue on a friday night. you’re family friends, his parents are fond of yours and when both children are home from their post - graduate lives, they take the opportunity to reconnect. he’s washed in the red glow of the neon signs in the diner window, leaned back in the ugly red booths with his arm draped up on the seat – and though his father leads the sermon every sunday, he looks like sin. you’ve always thought that about him; there was no way someone who looked at you like that was ever holy. so much danger laid in his dark eyes, in the sharpness of his jaw, the curve of his lips – he was utter temptation and you were just a sinner.

but, when he leans across the table to ask you, “are you a virgin?” you almost choke on your drink. your parents are right behind you in their own booth, talking to his parents about the town and the changes that keep coming – and he’s got a smooth curve to his lips while he innocently reaches for a french fry from the little black basket on the old, linoleum tables.

“how is that any of your business?” you ask, boldly swatting his hands away from the basket you ordered after he said he didn’t want anything. “or appropriate to ask?”

“we’re friends, aren’t we?”

but you send him a skeptical look, because no – you are not friends with yuta, or the nakamotos. your parents are. in your entire life, he’s only ever held a genuine conversation with you when forced. awkward dinner parties, after your high school graduation parties, that one thanksgiving they were invited over because your extended family bailed – he’s barely more than an acquaintance. yuta’s a familiar face in the crowd, a vague figure you might recognize if he’s dressed a certain way, the laugh you think you recognize when you’re halfway across the country at school. you might’ve spent years pining over the boy down the street who looked like he himself was an angel, but never once has he ever looked your way on his own volition.

“is that what you call this?” you muse, picking up a french fry. “friendship?”

“listen, i’m just curious.” despite him loudly stating about how unhungry he is, he takes another one of your fries. “i was thinking about what i did to you behind the church last time we were both in town.”

his words are innocent, but his intents are devilish. despite your best efforts, you feel your cheeks heating up at the mention of spring break – of his head underneath your dress as he spoke invocations between your thighs. he had a way with word , he always had and he had talked his way up your dress. it was just a hand on your thigh in the pews, then a ghost of kiss behind your ear when leading you out the church, then the filthy prayers that he executed with his tongue. he had drawn god’s name from your mouth while holding you against the church, held your legs apart as you cried out his name on holy ground.

he was thinking about it, but you thought of it often – probably more than he did.

“you stopped me before we could go any further, i thought you just weren’t interested.” the corner of his lips lifted. “but then, i thought to myself, is she a virgin? is that why she stopped me?”

you chewed on your food slowly, bravely holding his gaze as the neon lights buzzed in the background. “do you think i’m a virgin?” you asked. “it’s been months since you ate me out behind your dad’s church and you’re only asking now? how long have you been thinking about me?”

unexpectedly, you match the cockiness that he wears so well. time has changed you; you’re no longer the damsel, the final girl – purity wrapped in cream white, ring of abstinence around your finger as you keep your head bowed in submission. you’ve found freedom in the things your parents have warned you stay away from – in men like yuta, who hold onto god while shaking hands with the devil. you wouldn’t let yourself be hurt anymore, you refused to continue to be the church girl who let everyone walk all over him. next time, you’d hurt them instead of letting yourself get hurt – you’d leave before you could get left.

you wonder if time’s changed him. unlike you, and some of the other people in your class, he didn’t opt for higher education after high school. his instagram is mostly inactive, but you’ve kept up with his temporary stories, his treks through europe and his stays in asia. everywhere he goes he looks like he belongs. there’s always someone on his arm or by his side – he’s got an endless supply of charm that’s helped him on his way, he’s always been that way.

“a long time, angel,” he says.

and there it is – the way he looks at you while bathed in the color of lust and sin. he is temptation and you are eve, he beckons you to take a bite, and who are you to say no? it’s barely an hour before you find yourself on top of him in the backseat of his old car with his hands in your hair and his lips on your collarbones. the windows are fogged up by the heavy breaths that fall from your lips, unholy sounds filling up the empty spaces around you.

how can something so blasphemous sound so sanctifying? your name on his tongue as he fills you up, the moans drawn from the back of his throat while his hands leave your locks to roam around your body. his palms are hot against your sweat covered skin and he leaves a trail in his wake – like he’s drawing out a map with his fingertips, leaving his fingerprints on you. you could listen to him all day, listen to him talk about how tight you are, about how good you’re treating him, about how much he’s wanted you.

he is the prophet who’s made you a believer, hands between your legs as your core tightens – oh, how he encourages you, how his lips meet yours as he fucks you while your hips buck. stars fill your vision while he fulfills his fantasy on you, thrusting up into you and gripping your hips. he calls your name just as he finishes, his strokes slowing to a stop as he pushes your hair out of your face.

a gentle kiss on both your temples, you know then how hallowed he is.

ii. he calls you the next morning from his kitchen. his parents are still asleep when his eyes open and he swears he can still smell your perfume on his skin. he’s nothing short of sacrilegious, but you’ve always been holy to him. there’s something about the way you smile when you receive good news that makes his heart flutter, and he loves the way you look over your shoulder whenever someone calls your name. for so long, he’s watched you become strong and independent while keeping his hands to himself.

divine corruptor, but he never wanted to taint you.

because he can still remember you moving in down the block – another girl he’ll have to welcome into bible study, another kid he’ll have to pretend to like because his parents are too chatty. but suddenly he’s thirteen and watching you stop a family dinner to bandage the boy across the street. the sunset hits you just right, lights up your face as you make the little boy promise to be more careful. you probably don’t remember how you looked at him as you walked back up the path to his home, but he does. thirteen and looking to a god who’s never loved him, wondering if love is real after all.

but, then he’s seventeen and you won’t meet his eyes at thanksgiving. you won’t eat the stuffing he brought, and he wonders if he said something wrong. later, his parents tell him that your entire extended family bailed and that the cousins you missed so much hadn’t so much as called you. it wasn’t his stuffing that had you down, it was the absence of someone who promised you they’d be there. he left you a hand turkey on the window of your bedroom and tickets to the movie you spoke to your dad about that night – he had to bribe his ex - girlfriend that worked there.

and still, you never looked at him. you ignored him in the halls, chose the loudest kid in class to partner with instead of him, went to prom with one of his friends instead of even asking him. he had spent his entire teenage life watching after you with the stars in his eyes while you grew and moved on without him. even after high school, one day you were still at home, the next day your parents were at sunday service telling him about how you went to some hot shot college across the country. they’re so proud of you, but he shares the same pain with them – that you all but left everyone behind. he didn’t even get to say goodbye.

but years pass and suddenly you’re back in his church at the same time as him. you look as good as you always have, sundress appropriately chosen for service with your smile equipped as always – and even though it’s been years, his heart skips a beat. he’s distracted from the conversation his father’s pulled him into and he’s looking at you. you hug old neighbors and catch up with friends who never left, you ignore him as you always have until he sits next to you and he’s instantly aware of the shift in your demeanor. your posture’s a bit different and you hold your head up a little higher than usual. your hand laces with his and you’re asking him to help you get some air after he teases you.

“what do you want me to do, angel?” he asks you when you’re on the front steps of the church.

it’s you that initiates the kiss, who cups his cheeks and pulls him into you like you’ve been waiting to do it. he’s breathless for the entire kiss and he almost loses himself when you ask him rather what he wants do instead. you tasted sacred, and the noises you made as your legs shook around his head were imprinted into his mind until you came home again. that day, you had used him to get you off and left before he could get inside of you. you had walked away and left nothing but a fantasy in his head and he had spent months with his hand wrapped around himself thinking of what would’ve happened if you hadn’t stopped him.

that yellow dress would still be bunched around your waist, he’d hold it as he watched himself disappear inside of you. your panties would be all but forgotten on the ground while he pushed you against the side of the church, he would listen to your moans, hear his name from your lips, taste all of you for the rest of the day. he always thought of you, even in another country with another girl in his arms. you deserved better than his dirty thoughts, though, he knew that. you were worth so much more than just the lust you gave him a taste of, but you came home again and you looked wicked.

it isn’t the way he wanted it to happen, but it isn’t as if it’d happen any other way. girls like you don’t end up with boys like him – that’s a truth he accepted a long time ago. but still, you answer the phone groggily and his lips spread into a smile. he listens to you complain about the time and about how he almost got you caught sneaking in last night – because you’re an adult , but your parents still treat you like a teenager. it’s such a mundane moment, watching the sun rise while listening to your giggles on the phone, but he knows he’ll remember it forever.

iii. you’re wrapped up in his arms for the rest of summer. you spend nights with his hands between your legs while your mouth is wrapped around his cock. mornings are rare, but when they arrive they often come with his body against yours – skin to skin while the sunlight peeks through the curtains. it’s often you find yourself at the church with your parents, shaking hands with his father before disappearing for the service to rendezvous with the best adventure you’ve ever had in your life.

he forces you to new heights, leaves your legs shaking and you gasping for air from pleasure you never knew you could feel. he is dangerous – taking you from behind as he bends you over the top balcony of the church after service, leaving a mark on your neck that wasn’t there when the day started, pulling you away from old friends who definitely notice the way your cheeks get tinted when you meet eyes with him. if this was supposed to be a secret, it was a poorly hidden one – but you didn’t mind.

you started counting the days before you had to leave. one more year, and you would come home. you didn’t want to come home originally – you returning for the summer was just supposed to be a pit stop on your journey around the world. but he had made you stay. he had found his way into a heart you swore would always be shielded, he had held your hand while on the top of the car and asked you to stay. you’re sure that, “we should keep doing this.” didn’t really officially count as an invitation, but you had taken it as one anyway.

why hadn’t you done it sooner? why had you always been so scared of the pastor’s son? if he made you feel like this now, could he have done it sooner? would high school have been different if you chose him instead of his friend, who used you on prom night and never spoke to you again? would you have chosen a school closer to home if you knew that he could make you forget all your troubles? would you have gathered the courage to meet his eyes if you knew how angelic he looked when he fell asleep with an arm wrapped around you?

“what are you doing?” he mumbles. he shakes you from your thoughts as you readjust your position. your head lays on his chest and you look up at him as the sheets fall around your waists, your left hand is intertwined with his right, the way his thumb brushes over yours makes your stomach erupt with softness.

“i’m just thinking,” you reply quietly. “i’ve known you for more than half my life, but never like this.”

“like what?” he meets your eyes in the growing darkness of his room. there’s happiness in the liminal spaces like this, you’ve found, in the quiet afterglow of pleasure is when you’re at your highest. “naked?” he teases you. “intimately?”

your own smile appears on your lips widely, and you sit up to wrap the sheets around your chest. “yeah,” you nod. “and, you know, more than just – yuta my neighbor, yuta the pastor’s son, yuta who dated all the girls in my eighth grade math class.”

he sits up too, leaning against his headboard after running a hand through his hair. “is that what you thought about me?”

you thought so much more of him than he’d know. he was out of your league, and he wouldn’t ever be interested in someone like you – that much, you were always so sure of. he never seemed interested when he came over, he always seemed eager to leave; you never even spoke past formalities. you thought he was the most interesting kid in your entire town of three hundred, but you were just a nobody. he was divinity and you were nothing but a follower. he was going to go off and do something so great with his life, you’re in a useless major with a useless life plan.

“no.” you shake your head this time. “i thought you were holy.”

because you couldn’t ever forget how he looked sitting in the front pew like a marble statue. he was handsome, and posed against the stained glass windows he looked like one of the paintings hung up on the halls of the church. you’ve never forgotten how beautiful somberness looked on him, how even when there were tears in his eyes, he still looked like he could end wars with a single glance. it was an odd situation, seeing him behind the school on graduation day with a cigarette between his fingers pretending not to cry. you would’ve said goodbye to him then if you had had the courage, but you had spun around and left without even saying hello – something you had grown all but used to.

he snorts in response to you, shaking his head like he can’t quite believe you. “you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“but, i do.” you scoot over until you’re close enough to straddle him, the sheets fall from around you as you climb on top of him. “i swear it on everything i have, yuta, you’re holy.”

he looks like he wants to argue, to fight against the title you’ve given him but instead, he pulls you in for a kiss. it’s slow and deep, almost torturing the way he kisses you like it’ll be the last time. he always kisses you like this, before he makes you cum, when he says goodbye, when he pulls you out of the crowd and into his arms. you don’t know why, but you won’t ask him to stop.

he kisses you and you break away to kiss his jaw, his neck, his chest – you kiss him until your mouth is wrapped around him again. his hands are always in your hair like this, his eyes are always half shut when you swipe your tongue over the head of his member, he always looks you in the eye when you dare to look up. he’s so holy, you wished he saw it too.

iv. you break his heart on a wednesday evening. three months of this and suddenly he’s got you in the back of his car again and he accidentally tells you “i love you”.

it’s in the heat of the moment, he confesses immediately after, but he can’t lie. he loves you, and he’s never loved anyone else like this before. you are everything to him. he looks at you and still loses his breath, he still gets giddy when he sees your contact light up his phone, he can’t go to bed without making sure you know he’s thinking of you. he thinks you love him too, because this isn’t just friendship. what you guys have going on is so much more.

it stopped being about the sex a bit ago, when you fell asleep in his arms and he held you until you woke up. it stopped being about the sex when he knew what to get you when you got bad news without you telling him. it stopped being about the sex when no other girl in the world compared to you, when you asked him if he’d visit you over the school year and he promised to. he passed friendship the minute he learned about your weird habit of leaving flowers on the windowsill of old mrs. buchannan because she liked the color. he knew he loved you when he had to pause the movie because you cried over the death of a minor animal character. he thought you loved him when you called him holy.

but he tells you he loves you and he can hear the rose gold glass shatter.

“hey,” he says your name as you fix your skirt in silence. “hey, come on, say something.”

“you don’t mean that.” your response comes quietly.

“i don’t mean what?” he pulls his pants up, fixes the buttons of his shirt. “that i love you?”

“you don’t love me.” you open the car door and step out. “you can’t.”

he’s taken aback by your comment, very briefly fixing his hair before stepping out of his side and watching you briskly walk away in the empty parking lot of the closed down k-mart. “what is that supposed to mean?”

you turn around, jacket wrapped around your arms as you look everywhere but at him. “i mean what i said. you can’t love me, yuta, i’m not someone you’re supposed to love.”

“then who am i supposed to love?” he takes steps around the car toward you. “if not you, then who?”

“anybody but me,” you insist, and he can’t understand why you’re pushing him away now. he can’t understand. “you’re supposed to love someone who’ll give you adventure and a lifetime of happiness. i’m just me – i’m– i’ll only leave. break your heart.”

“is there something i’m missing here?” he stands his ground even though you stray further away, one step at a time. “when was this decided – that you’d just leave and break my heart?”

and he’s so desperate to keep you, to hold onto you and keep you in his life. he doesn’t want this, you still taking steps back away from him like he’s the demon he’s always been sure he is. you’re enveloped in the dim lights of the parking lot, the streetlights cast a halo over you as you teeter near the edge of darkness – and still, he’d fall to his knees in worship for you if it meant you’d stay.

“you’re not supposed to love me, yuta, please,” your voice breaks, and it hits him so hard he almost stumbles back. “i’m sorry.”

you leave him in the half lit parking lot, but you don’t turn around to see him sitting down on the pavement with his head in his hands. what a constant theme in his life, to find so much happiness and see it walk out of his life. he thought you’d be the one that stayed, but he can see now how unfair it is to have placed all his expectations on your shoulders. you aren’t atlas, you aren’t made to carry the weight of his faults and his world, that’s his job, that’s his duty. he shouldn’t have expected you to love him the way he loves you, he shouldn’t have expected anything other than another girl who wanted to burn her hand in the lust.

it’s okay, he thinks, it’ll be okay. he’ll be okay, he always is. but he picks himself up hours after you left and climbs into a car that still smells like the perfume you sprayed earlier when you complained about the smell of cigarettes and that pine scent you hated. he drives to the church with his windows down, speeding through the empty streets so fast he can barely breathe though the wind. he uses the back entrance of the church with tears in his eyes and falls into his place in the first pew, letting the darkness wrap around him as he leans forward and cries.

yuta doesn’t pray, but he prays for you anyway.

v. you leave tomorrow, and your parents open the door to let in the nakamotos. he isn’t with his parents, and you don’t know if you’re more relieved or disappointed. because it’s been two weeks since he said he loves you, and it’s been two weeks since you saw a future in which he left you because you couldn’t make him happy.

what was it? your own insecurities, or the constant pattern that everyone that you fell in love seemed to leave? you could dissect it all. the fact that he was out of your league, that you had spent half your life yearning over him and waiting for him to look at you as someone other than the daughter of his parents’ friends. every girl he had ever dated was prettier, or more adventurous, or better than you in one way or another. every friend he had had more substance than you would ever muster. every story he told you reminded you that you didn’t fit into his life.

and then the second point, that you had fallen in love so many times just to be left alone in the cold. you had found yourself lost in the woods so many times because of the boys you chose to love. because of that, you had mapped the forest on your own, built your own shelter, and kept yourself warm with your own fire. it was foolish of you to let the fire die out and to venture out toward his flame, it was incredibly stupid of you to fall in love with him when you had promised yourself that you’d leave before you could get left.

but dinner is so empty without him, and he’s everywhere. he haunts you in everything you do, you can see him in everyone you meet. because the truth is, the hoodie he left still smells like him even if it’s just been sitting on your desk chair and whenever you see something funny the first person you think of his him. you find him in the sunsets and the shadows in your room, you touch him in your dreams and hold him so tightly you wake up in tears. he has burrowed his way into your heart and the joke’s on you – you ended up hurt in the long run anyway.

you say goodnight to his parents as they leave – his mom hugs you extra tight and tells you it’s from yuta.

“he’ll miss you, sweetheart,” she says as she pulls away.

that haunts you for the rest of the night. you can’t sleep, you can’t form a coherent thought, and you’re walking out of the front door fiercely at two in the morning without caring about the consequences. you walk across the lawns to his house, you find his room on the ground floor and knock on the window – quietly, three times. seconds feel like hours as you wait, and for a second, you think he’s gone, but just as you’re about to sprint back home, his curtains pull apart and you see his face.

you’re helpless as the moonlight hits his face, lighting up his features. heaven lost an angel and he’s right in front of you. you’ll never understand why he thinks so lowly of himself, why he can’t see the wings that sprout from his back and the halo that hangs over his head. you can remember a night spent with him, listening to him tell you about his stories and his adventures. how highly he spoke of others, how he didn’t speak of himself, how he only mentioned his mistakes and his flaws. you had told him how holy he was, he had denied it until his hips were between your legs and you forgot all about it.

he slides his window open, pushing the screen aside and leaning out. he looks like a masterpiece, painted and carved by god himself – the big man that you knew he didn’t really believe in. if god was real, he gifted mankind yuta.

“i leave tomorrow,” you say.

he nods slowly. “i know.”

“i came to say goodbye.”

“okay.” he looks you in the eye. “goodbye.”

“bye.”

not all stories have a happy ending, you know. you’re so sure that you won’t have one with him, you’re so sure that if you tell him how much you love him it’ll end apocalyptically – but your heart hurts so much you can’t breathe. you can’t move your feet from its spot in the ground, you can’t leave the way your mind is telling you to.

“please give me time,” you mumble – you don’t even know what you’re really saying. the words are coming out faster than you can stop them. “please wait for me. i just need a little time.”

“for what? what in the world could you possibly need time for?” he asks, stoic features finally moving; they shift into a frown, a sarcastic laugh from his lips.

“i need time to love you the way you deserve to be loved. because i do, i do love you. i love you.” it’s relieving to say, you can almost breathe again but the way he looks at you – for the first time that summer, he doesn’t look at you like you’ve gifted him the sun. he looks at you like you’ve stolen the light, like you’re a bringer of darkness. “i just – i can’t.”

“and i can’t wait for you.” he shakes his head. “i can’t do it.”

“please,” you beg. you take a step toward his window as he takes a step back into his room. “please.”

“i can’t.”

tears blur your vision and you don’t want to cry, you don’t want him to see you sob over him. but you can’t hold them back, they fall onto your cheeks as he pulls back the screen on his window – a barrier that prevents you from climbing in familiarly.

“i love you,” he says to you. “i meant it when i said it, i mean it now. but you need time to love me and i need time to unlove you.” you’ve never seen him look so sad before, but he closes his window, then his curtains.

rightfully, he cuts you out of his life and leaves you in the darkness. you walk back home in tears, you land on your front steps in tears. some stories just don’t have happy endings, some have lessons – yours: that in trying to get hurt by another person, you ended up the most hurt you’d ever been.

oedipus, by trying to escape your fate, you’ve walked headfirst into it.

#nct-writers #neowritingsnet #nct scenarios #yuta x reader #yuta imagines #yuta #kpop imagines #nct 127 #nct #nct 127 smut #mine.#anyway #i'll be back in a couple of months when i get another au in my head that i can't get rid of

30 notes · View notes

a-queer-seminarian · 4 years

Text

Hagar and Sarah - was reconciliation ever a possibility?

Sarah inflicts horrific abuse on Hagar (see Genesis 16 and 21): enslavement, rape and forced impregnation, beatings, and finally, banishment into the desert. It seems impossible that their story could ever have ended with renewed relationship and solidarity. As Jewish Cuban-American anthropologist Ruth Behar puts it in “Sarah and Hagar: The Heel-prints upon Their Faces,”

“The story of Sarah and Hagar is a story about women wronging women. It is a story so sad, so shameful, so sorrowful, that to own up to it is to admit that feminism has its origins in terrible violence and terrible lack of compassion between women.”

And yet, people across centuries have imagined what reconciliation between these two women could have been like. I’m compiling some of those visions here.

Many of them rely upon Sarah recognizing that she and Hagar share much suffering: Sarah too is used as property by men in their patriarchal world; Sarah too may have experienced rape when Pharaoh takes her from Abram in Egypt (see Wil Gafney’s Womanist Midrash); Sarah and Hagar alike are valued for their fertility and little else. If only Sarah had realized that patriarchy is what sets her above and against her fellow woman! If only she could have seen Hagar as a sister in solidarity, rather than a slave to abuse and cast away!

“Only at the end, When I witnessed my young son screaming under his father's knife, Only then Did I realize our common suffering.”

- Lynn Gottlieb

[image description: a painting of two women with curly brown hair and brown skin embracing; the one being held has a blue shawl with “Sarah and Hagar” written in Hebrew on it, while the one embracing her has a bright blue dress. A dove with an olive branch hovers behind them.]

“Sarah and Hagar” by Jewish artist Hilary Sylvester, who says: “Sarah the mother of the Jewish People and Hagar the mother of the Arab people finally find reconciliation through Mashiach.”

___________

Hagar’s and Sarah’s conflict & the Israel / Palestine conflict

In the article “Reconciling Hagar and Sarah: Feminist Midrash and National Conflict,” Noam Zion explains,

“In Jewish and Muslim interpretation, Hagar and Sarah represent the matriarchs of Abraham’s blessed heirs, the Arabs and the Jews. In classical sources, the break between the two women is never mended, but feminist readers of the Bible, Jewish and Muslim, have used midrash-style poetry to rewrite the ending of their story. Part of this endeavor is the hope of rewriting the contemporary conflict and reconciling between their putative descendants.”

...On a covenantal level, this story has an all’s well that ends well conclusion. God’s promises to Abraham and to each of the matriarchs will be fulfilled, as Isaac and Ishmael will each become great nations. But what about the interpersonal level? Is there ever a happy ending to the familial and, thus, national conflict?”

They continue with examples of reconciliation between various members of the story:

Reconciling Ishmael and Isaac: “The Torah itself implies a reconciliation of sorts between the brothers. First, after Abraham’s death, Ishmael returns “home” to encounter his brother once more at their father’s funeral: ‘His sons Isaac and Ishmael buried him in the cave of Machpelah’” (Genesis 25:9).

Reconciling Abraham and Hagar: “In the biblical text, Hagar...is never mentioned after the story of the expulsion, leaving his breach with Hagar unresolved. In another example of midrashic rewriting of the narrative, some rabbis identify Keturah, whom Abraham marries after Sarah’s death (Genesis 25:1), with Hagar. (In the biblical text, the two are not identical.) ...Thus Abraham renews his responsibility and his affection for Hagar as soon as Sarah, who could not stand her, is buried.”

Reconciling Hagar and Sarah: “The one character who is never reconciled with either of the offended parties, in either the biblical text or the midrash, is Sarah. ...For these reasons, some contemporary feminist readers and poets have felt an urgent need to add a new episode to the narrative to bring the two women together.

Further, these feminist poets wish to reimagine the relationship between the nations born of these matriarchs in a period of ongoing violent conflict between Muslims and Jews in the Middle East and the fragile beginnings of a new religious and ethnic dialogue between American Muslims and American Jews in North America.”

___________

Common Suffering: Sarah Repents

In the opening to her poem “Achti,” Arabic for “My Sister,” Jewish Renewal rabbi Lynn Gottlieb suggests that Hagar is not a name but a derogatory epithet, and imagines Sarah’s regret:

I am pained I did not call you By the name your mother gave you. I cast you aside, Cursed you with my barrenness and rage, Called you “stranger”/ Ha-ger, As if it were a sin to be from another place.

Noam Zion says of the poem, “For Gottlieb, Sarah’s sin derives in part from her blindness to the patriarchal system that pressures wives to be fertile and generates an inhumane competition between women, breaking down their solidarity. Sarah admits to having tried to steal Hagar’s womb, as if another woman, her womb and her child, could be property.”

They used me to steal your womb, Claim your child, As if I owned your body and your labor

“Having offered an original interpretation of Hagar’s name, Gottlieb does the same with “Sarah.” Etymologically, her name is connected to “ruler” (שַׂר, sar), but Gottlieb’s midrash connects it to “see-far” (שׁוּר, shur). Thus Sarah ought to become, by virtue of her name, the far-seeing woman, the prophetess. ...Yet she realizes to her chagrin that Hagar sees visions of God, while God has stopped communicating with the woman meant to be a prophetess:”

I, whom they call “See Far Woman” / Sarah, Could not witness my own blindness. But you, my sister, You beheld angels, Made miracles in the desert, Received divine blessings from a god, Who stopped talking to me.

”Using the midrash on Sarah’s name, Gottlieb has Sarah contrast her own moral blindness with Hagar’s power of vision in having seen God. By contrast, Sarah never speaks to God or sees him. What she does witness, however, is the near death of her son Isaac:”

Only at the end, When I witnessed my young son screaming under his father's knife, Only then Did I realize our common suffering.

“...Gottlieb says Sarah’s trauma, seeing her son almost slaughtered by her husband, led her to repent. When Sarah is herself shunted aside and her son taken—without consulting her—to be sacrificed by the same Abraham and the same God who drove Ishmael away and exposed him to death, Sarah then discovers herself as an unwitting collaborator of patriarchy who betrayed her sisterly duties to Hagar by actively expelling a helpless woman and child into a life-threatening situation. Now that she has suffered, she develops an empathy with Hagar based on their common motherhood.

...She concludes her poem in the form of a ritual self-accusation, a vidui, the traditional confession characteristic of Yom Kippur, which follows soon after Rosh Hashanah, and is part of the same festival complex:”

Forgive me, Achti For the sin of neglect For the sin of abuse For the sin of arrogance Forgive me, Achti, For the sin of not knowing your name.

“In the spirit of her poem, Gottlieb takes it upon herself, through the character of Sarah “our mother,” to confess what—in her political and moral opinion as a left-wing liberal—are the sins of the Jewish people in their “abuse,” expulsion and depersonalization of Palestinian refugees which Sarah’s command to Abraham to expel Hagar and son Ishmael foreshadows.“

___________

Sarah Seeks Hagar

Eleanor Wilner has a long poem called “Sarah’s Choice.” In it, Sarah tells her son Isaac that she is going to go find Hagar and Ishmael “whom I cast out, drunk on pride,” and invites Isaac to come with her. He asks her how he should great Ishmael:

“As you greet yourself,” she said, “when you bend over the well to draw water and see your image, not knowing it reversed. You must know your brother now, or you will see your own face looking back the day you’re at each other’s throats.

In Reading Genesis: Beginnings, Kissileff writes, “The poem closes with the chilling foresight, emphasized by the pauses in the final line, that brings us back to the Bible as we know it:

“But what will happen if we go?” the boy Isaac asked. “I don’t know,” Sarah said, “But it is written what will happen if you stay?”

“What will happen, of course, is that Isaac’s own father will attempt to sacrifice him -- and that the future history of his people will be one of unending conflict with his ‘brother.’ Whenever I read this poem, I catch my breath at the last line. ...”

__________

Hagar writes to Sarah

“Hagar Writes a Cathartic as an Exercise Suggested by her Therapist,” by Syrian American poet, novelist, and professor, Mohja Kahf:

Dear Sarah, life made us enemies But it doesn’t have to be that way. What if we both ditched the old man? He could have visitation rights with the boys alternate weekends and holidays. Yeah, especially the Feast of the Sacrifice— everybody has forgotten anyway that it began with me abandoned in the desert watching my baby dehydrate for days— I dared God to let us die.

Anyway, you and I, we’d set up house, raise the kids, start a catering business, maybe. You have brains. So do I. We could travel. There are places to see besides Ur and this nowheresville desert with its tribes of hooligans

No. Your lips always thin when you disapprove, like the mother I can hardly remember from before I wound up in your house. I was barely more than a girl. You are the one Who brought me there from Egypt. You used to laugh back then. In those days, You could bear to look at me.

Oh, Sarah, you need years of therapy Can’t you admit that what he did to me was cruel? Admit it – for just one second It won’t make you hate him forever just long enough to know the world won’t fall apart. Long enough to pity him, yourself, me Laugh, Sarah, laugh Imagine God, the Possibility. Sincerely Love, Hagar

#hagar #sarah #abraham and sarah #sarah and hagar #genesis 21 #genesis 16 #readings #midrash

45 notes · View notes